
Class 

Book ^S 

Copyright N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Historic Landmarks of 
America 

As Seen and Described 
by Famous Writers 



COLLECTED AND EDITED BY 

ESTHER SINGLETON 



With Numerous Illustrations 




NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 

1907 



Jfc.J 



UrfHARY of CONGRESS 

I wo OodIm Received 

v H 26 »90j> 

. Oopynght Entry 
©Ot %t \qt>") 
CLASS A XXc, No. 

\O0 ST73 
oopy e». 



Copyright, 1907, by 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 

Published October, IQOJ 



Preface 



One of the most striking features of American history is 
the fact that the greater number of important events have 
occurred amidst bold and beautiful scenery. It has, there- 
fore, been my aim to present in this volume, a number of 
the most picturesque and important pilgrimage places in 
America — places that are doubly famous for their beauty and 
historical associations. 

It would be impossible to include within the covers of a 
small book every scene that justifies the name of a Land- 
mark of American History. I have, therefore, in my selec- 
tions, endeavoured to take the reader on as long and varied 
a trip as possible, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Coast, 
from Canada to Mexico, from Maine to Florida, and down 
the Mississippi from the Great Lakes to New Orleans, not 
omitting a few inland towns such as Mexico and Santa Fe, 
Denver and Chicago, that represent the oldest and the 
newest phases of civilization in the Western Hemisphere. 
I have also ventured to include a short description of my 
own of a town of entirely different type — the much neg- 
lected, but very charming, remnant of Colonial days — An- 
napolis. 

In addition to cities, I have included lakes, bays, straits, 
mountains, islands, harbours, plains, and rivers that have 
formed the stage-setting for most dramatic episodes. Fa- 
mous battlegrounds, such as Bunker Hill, Saratoga, Lexing- 



vi PREFACE 

ton, the Brandywine, the Plains of Abraham, and Gettys- 
burg, have demanded their share of attention, while places 
famous for raids and skirmishes, such as the Alamo and 
Harper's Ferry, have also been included. 

I have also followed the footprints of many of the great 
explorers — Columbus, Henry Hudson, Cortes, Sir George 
Somers, Sir Thomas Gates, Samuel de Champlain, Fathers 
White, Hennepin, and Marquette, Joliet, Ponce de* Leon, 
Jean Ribault, Rene de Laudonniere, Jacques de la Metairie, 
Sir Ferdinando Gorges, Smith, Gosnold, Masse, Baird, 
Biencourt, Newport, Poutrincourt, and others, whose cour- 
ageous expeditions into the wild forests of the Red Man 
prepared the way for civilization. Four important Indian 
characters also appear in these pages — Powhatan, Poca- 
hontas, Pontiac, and King Philip. 

The reader will doubtless notice the preponderance of the 
fort among the landmarks. This is explained by the fact 
that nearly every American town had its origin in the little 
stockade first built for protection against the savages and 
later as a redoubt against French or English foes. These 
are eloquent testimonies to the far-sightedness of the 
French, English, and American generals and explorers, who 
planted their garrisons in such commanding positions. 
Many of these sites have now become great cities, such as, 
for instance, Pittsburg and Detroit, and many of these old 
forts — such as Fort Marion in St. Augustine, Niagara, 
Ticonderoga, West Point, Michilimacinac, etc., are among 
the most picturesque sights that America offers to the 
traveller. 

The earliest colonists have not been forgotten : the Spanish 
settlements in California and Florida, Oglethorpe's in Sa- 
vannah, and the English settlements in Plymouth and James- 



PREFACE 



vn 



town have not been forgotten. It is interesting to compare 
Gardiner's instructive account of the Founding of James- 
town with Irving's sympathetic article on the Bermudas, 
which shows how closely Prospero's magic isle is linked with 
American history, and gives lovers of The Tempest an added 
interest in that exquisite play. 

My appreciative thanks are extended to Messrs. Little, 
Brown & Co. for permission to use the extract on Lake 
Champlain from Pioneers of France in the New World; to 
Messrs. J. B. Lippincott for permission to reprint Aitken's 
Sault Ste. Marie from Lippincott' 's Magazine; and to the 
Overland Monthly for allowing me to include Miller's 
Santa Fe. 

E. S. 

New York, September, 1907. 



Contents 



PAGE 

The Bermudas i 

Washington Irving. 

Yorktown ....... 10 

Lord Cornwallis. 

Manhattan Island . . . . .15 

David T. Valentine. 



The Valley of Waterfalls 


22 


George N. Curzon. 




Bunker Hill ..... 


• 35 


Daniel Webster. 




TlCONDEROGA ...... 


. 40 


Benson John Lossing. 




Lake Champlain ..... 


• 5i 


Francis Parkman. 




San Francisco ..... 


. 57 


James Anthony Froude. 




The Chesapeake Bay .... 


. 64 


Father Andrew White. 




Mexico ...... 


• 71 



Hernando Cortes. 
ix 



x CONTENTS 

St. Augustine 



Denver 

Lake George 



George R. Fairbanks. 
George W. Steevens. 
T. Addison Richards. 



Plymouth Rock .... 

John Gorham Palfrey. 
Fort Niagara ..... 
S. De Veaux. 

The Brandywine .... 
Benson John Lossing. 

The Mississippi River 

Jared Sparks. 

Chicago 

George W. Steevens. 

Boston Harbour .... 
Charles Knight. 

E. S. Creasy. 

Isaac Aiken. 

Henry B. Dawson. 

Washington Irving. 



Saratoga 

i 

Sault Ste. Marie 

Lexington 

San Salvador . 



PAGE 

. 78 



• 134 

. 141 

. 146 

. 154 

. 159 

. 167 



West Point 



CONTENTS 



Benson John Lossing. 



The Acquisition of Louisiana 

Jacques de la Metairie. 



Gettysburg 



James Schouler. 



St. Anthony and Minnehaha 

Edward Duffield Neill. 



Newport 



T. Addison Richards. 



The Plains of Abraham . 

John Knox. 

Detroit ..... 

The Alamo 

Savannah 



J. T. Headley. 
Henry Bruce. 

Benson John Lossing. 



Harper's Ferry .... 
John G. Rosengarten. 

Machilimacinac .... 
Henry B. Dawson. 

Narragansett .... 

Washington Irving. 

The Settlement of Jamestown 

Samuel Rawson Gardiner. 



XI 
PAGE 
172 

. 182 

. 189 

• 195 
. 201 
. 211 
. 2l6 
. 226 
. 229 

• 237 
. 248 

• 253 
. 26l 



xii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Fort Du Quesne ....,.,,. 270 
E. Sargent. 

St. John's River ....... ,.. 279 

George R. Fairbanks. 

Monterey ........ 284 

Lady Mary Hardy. * 

Annapolis ....... 290 

Esther Singleton. 

The Settlement of Mount Desert . . . 295 
William D. Williamson. 

Santa Fe* 300 

Clarence A. Miller. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



The Battery, New York 

Village of Elbra, Bermuda . 

Yorktown Harbour 

El Capitan, Yosemite Valley . 

Bunker Hill Monument 

Ruins of Ticonderoga 

Lake Champlain 

San Francisco 

Cape Henry, Virginia 

Mexican Scene, Tampico 

Fort Marion, St. Augustine . 

Denver ..... 

Rogers' Slide, Lake George 

Plymouth Rock 

Old Fort Niagara 

The Brandywine . 

A Mississippi River Landing . 

Madison Street from Fifth Avenue 

Chicago 
Boston Harbour 
Battle Monument, Schuylerville 

N. Y 

The Locks, Sault Ste. Marie 
The Green, Lexington . 
Siege Battery Drill, West Point 
New Orleans from the Harbour 
Little Round Top, Gettysburg 
Minnehaha Falls 

xiii 



Frontispiece 


Facing 


page 


2 


<( 


«< 


IO 


i< 


it 


22 


<< 


a 


36 


n 


tt 


40 


<< 


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52 


tt 


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58 


tt 


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64 


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it 


72 


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78 


<< 


tt 


88 


<< 


tt 


92 


u 


tt 


102 


tt 


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no 


tt 


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114 


tt 


tt 


122 


tt 


tt 


134 


tt 


tt 


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160 


tt 


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172 


it 


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n 


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190 


u 


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196 



XIV 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Newport Harbour 


Facing 


page 


202 


Wolfe's Monument, Plains of 








Abraham .... 


<« 


<< 


212 


Detroit ..... 


<< 


u 


216 


The Alamo ..... 


« 


<( 


226 


Savannah ..... 


« 


<« 


230 


Straits of Mackinac 


u 


• 


248 


Indian Rock, Narragansett . 


« 


«« 


254 


Hampton Roads from Newport 








News ..... 


M 


M 


262 


Pittsburg ..... 


« 


«« 


270 


On the St. John's River, Florida . 


« 


(« 


280 


Midway Point, Monterey 


M 


H 


284 


Artillery Drill, U. S. Naval 








Academy, Annapolis 


M 


K 


290 


Bar Harbour from Great Hill, 








Mt. Desert Island . 


a 


« 


296 


The Plaza, Santa Fe . 


It 


<« 


300 



THE BERMUDAS 

WASHINGTON IRVING 

" Who did not think, till within these foure yeares, but that these 
islands had been rather a habitation for Divells, than fit for men 
to dwell in? Who did not hate the name, when hee was on land, 
and shun the place when he was on the seas? But behold the 
misprision and conceits of the world ! For true and large experience 
hath now told us, it is one of the sweetest paradises that be upon 
earth." A Plaine descript. of the Bermudas (1613). 

IN the course of a voyage home from England, our ship 
had been struggling, for two or three weeks, with per- 
verse head-winds, and a stormy sea. It was in the month 
of May, yet the weather had at times a wintry sharpness, 
and it was apprehended that we were in the neighbourhood 
of floating islands of ice, which at that season of the year 
drift out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and sometimes oc- 
casion the wreck of noble ships. 

Wearied out by the continued opposition of the elements, 
our captain at length bore away to the south, in hopes of 
catching the expiring breath of the trade-winds, and making 
what is called the southern passage. A few days wrought, 
as it were, a magical " sea change " in everything around 
us. We seemed to emerge into a different world. The 
late dark and angry sea, lashed up into roaring and swashing 
surges, became calm and sunny; the rude winds died away; 
and gradually a light breeze sprang up directly aft, filling 
out every sail, and wafting us smoothly along on an even 
keel. The air softened into a bland and delightful tempera- 
ture. Dolphins began to play about us; the nautilus came 



2 THE BERMUDAS 

floating by, like a fairy ship, with its mimic sail and rainbow 
tints; and flying-fish, from time to time, made their short 
excursive flights, and occasionally fell upon the deck. The 
cloaks and overcoats in which we had hitherto wrapped our- 
selves, and moped about the vessel, were thrown aside; for 
a summer warmth had succeeded to the late wintry chills. 
Sails were stretched as awnings over the quarter-deck, to 
protect us from the midday sun. Under these we lounged 
away the day, in luxurious indolence, musing, with half- 
shut eyes, upon the quiet ocean. The night was scarcely 
less beautiful than the day. The rising moon sent a quiver- 
ing column of silver along the undulating surface of the 
deep, and, gradually climbing the heavens, lit up our tow- 
ering top-sails and swelling main-sails, and spread a pale, 
mysterious light around. As our ship made her whisper- 
ing way through this dreamy world of waters, every bois- 
terous sound on board was charmed to silence; and the low 
whistle, or drowsy song, of a sailor from the forecastle, or 
the tinkling of a guitar, and the soft warbling of a female 
voice from the quarter-deck, seemed to derive a witch- 
ing melody from the scene and hour. I was reminded of 
Oberon's exquisite description of music and moonlight on 
the ocean: 

"Thou remembrest 
Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back, 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song; 
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
To hear the sea-maid's music." 

Indeed, I was in the very mood to conjure up all the 
imaginary beings with which poetry has peopled old ocean, 
and almost ready to fancy I heard the distant song of the 
mermaid, or the mellow shell of the triton, and to picture to 



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THE BERMUDAS 3 

myself Neptune and Amphitrite with all their pageant sweep- 
ing along the dim horizon. 

A day or two of such fanciful voyaging, brought us in 
sight of the Bermudas, which first looked like mere summer 
clouds, peering above the quiet ocean. All day we glided 
along in sight of them, with just wind enough to fill our 
sails; and never did land appear more lovely. They were 
clad in emerald verdure, beneath the serenest of skies; not 
an angry wave broke upon their quiet shores, and small 
fishing craft, riding on the crystal waves, seemed as if hung 
in air. It was such a scene that Fletcher pictures to him- 
self, when he extolled the halcyon lot of the fisherman : 

" Ah ! would thou knowest how much it better were 
To bide among the simple fisher-swains: 
No shrieking owl, no night-crow lodgeth here, 

Nor is our simple pleasure mixed with pains. 
Our sports begin with the beginning year; 
In calms, to pull the leaping fish to land, 
In roughs, to sing and dance along the yellow sand." 

In contemplating these beautiful islands, and the peace- 
ful sea around them, I could hardly realize that these were 
the " still vexed Bermooths " of Shakespeare, once the dread 
of mariners, and infamous in the narratives of the early dis- 
coverers, for the dangers and disasters which beset them. 
Such, however, was the case; and the islands derived addi- 
tional interest in my eyes, from fancying that I could trace 
in their early history, and the superstitious notions connected 
with them, some of the elements of Shakespeare's wild and 
beautiful drama of the Tempest. I shall take the liberty 
of citing a few historical facts, in support of this idea, which 
may claim some additional attention from the American 
reader, as being connected with the first settlement of 
Virginia. 



4 THE BERMUDAS 

At the time when Shakespeare was in the fulness of his 
talent, and seizing upon everything that could furnish ali- 
ment to his imagination, the colonization of Virginia was 
a favourite object of enterprise among people of condition 
in England, and several of the courtiers of the Court of 
Queen Elizabeth were personally engaged in it. In the 
year 1609, a noble armament of nine ships and five hundred 
men sailed for the relief of the colony. It was commanded 
by Sir George Somers, as admiral, a gallant and generous 
gentleman, about sixty years of age, and possessed of an 
ample fortune, yet still bent upon hardy enterprise, and 
ambitious of signalizing himself in the service of his country. 
On board of his flag-ship, the Sea Vulture, sailed also Sir 
Thomas Gates, lieutenant-general of the colony. The voy- 
age was long and boisterous. On the twenty-fifth of July, 
the admiral's ship was separated from the rest, in a hurri- 
cane. For several days she was driven about at the mercy 
of the elements, and so strained and racked, that her seams 
yawned open, and her hold was half filled with water. The 
storm subsided, but left her a mere foundering wreck. The 
crew stood in the hold to their waists in water, vainly en- 
deavouring to bail her with kettles, buckets, and other ves- 
sels. The leaks rapidly gained on them, while their strength 
was rapidly declining. They lost all hope of keeping the 
ship afloat, until they should reach the American coast; and 
wearied with fruitless toil, determined, in their despair, to 
give up all farther attempt, shut down the hatches, and 
abandon themselves to Providence. Some, who had spirit- 
uous liquors, or " comfortable waters," as the old record 
quaintly terms them, brought them forth, and shared them 
with their comrades, and they all drank a sad farewell to 
one another, as men who were soon to part company in this 
world. 

In this moment of extremity, the worthy admiral, who 



THE BERMUDAS 5 

kept sleepless watch from the high stern of the vessel, gave 
the thrilling cry of " land ! " All rushed on deck, in a 
frenzy of joy, and nothing now was to be seen or heard on 
board, but the transports of men who felt as if rescued from 
the grave. It is true the land in sight would not, in ordi- 
nary circumstances, have inspired much self-congratulation. 
It could be nothing else but the group of islands called 
after their discoverer, one Juan Bermudas, a Spaniard, but 
stigmatized among the mariners of those days as " the islands 
of devils! " " For the islands of the Bermudas," says the 
old narrative of this voyage, " as every man knoweth that 
hath heard or read of them, were never inhabited by any 
Christian or heathen people, but were ever esteemed and 
reputed a most prodigious and inchanted place, affording 
nothing but gusts, storms, and foul weather, which made 
every navigator and mariner to avoid them as Scylla and 
Charybdis, or as they would shun the Divell himself." 

Sir George Somers and his tempest-tossed comrades, how- 
ever, hailed them with rapture, as if they had been a ter- 
restrial paradise. Every sail was spread, and every exertion 
made to urge the foundering ship to land. Before long, she 
struck upon a rock. Fortunately, the late stormy winds had 
subsided, and there was no surf. A swelling wave lifted 
her from off the rock, and bore her to another; and thus she 
was borne on from rock to rock, until she remained wedged 
between two, as firmly as if set up on the stocks. The boats 
were immediately lowered, and, though the shore was above 
a mile distant, the whole crew were landed in safety. 

Everyone had now his task assigned him. Some made 
all haste to unload the ship, before she should go to pieces; 
some constructed wigwams of palmetto leaves, and others 
ranged the island in quest of wood and water. To their 
surprise and joy, they found it far different from the deso- 
late and frightful place they had been taught, by seamen's 



6 THE BERMUDAS 

stories, to expect. It was well wooded and fertile; there 
were birds of various kinds, and herds of swine roaming 
about, the progeny of a number that had swum ashore, in 
former years, from a Spanish wreck. The island abounded 
with turtle, and great quantities of their eggs were to be 
found among the rocks. The bays and inlets were full of 
fish; so tame, that if anyone stepped into the water, they 
would throng around him. Sir George Scuners, in a little 
while, caught enough with hook and line to furnish a meal 
to his whole ship's company. Some of them were so large 
that two were as much as a man could carry. Craw-fish, 
also, were taken in abundance. The air was soft and salu- 
brious, and the sky beautifully serene. Waller, in his Sum- 
mer Islands, has given us a faithful picture of the climate: 

" For the kind spring, (which but salutes us here,) 
Inhabits these, and courts them all the year: 
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live; 
At once they promise, and at once they give: 
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, 
None sickly lives, or dies before his time. 
Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed 
To shew how all things were created first." 

We may imagine the feelings of the shipwrecked mariners, 
on finding themselves cast by stormy seas upon so happy 
a coast; where abundance was to be had without labour; 
where what in other climes constituted the costly luxuries 
of the rich, were within every man's reach ; and where life 
promised to be a mere holiday. Many of the common sailors, 
especially, declared they desired no better lot than to pass 
the rest of their lives on this favoured island. 

The commanders, however, were not so ready to console 
themselves with mere physical comforts, for the severance 
from the enjoyment of cultivated life, and all the objects of 



THE BERMUDAS 7 

honourable ambition. Despairing of the arrival of any 
chance ship on these shunned and dreaded islands, they 
fitted out the long-boat, making a deck of the ship's hatches, 
and having manned her with eight picked men, despatched 
her, under the command of an able and hardy mariner, 
named Raven, to proceed to Virginia, and procure shipping 
to be sent to their relief. 

While waiting in anxious idleness for the arrival of the 
looked-for aid, dissensions arose between Sir George Somers 
and Sir Thomas Gates, originating, very probably in jeal- 
ousy of the lead which the nautical experience and pro- 
fessional station of the admiral gave him in the present 
emergency. Each commander of course had his adherents: 
these dissensions ripened into a complete schism; and this 
handful of shipwrecked men, thus thrown together on an 
uninhabited island, separated into two parties, and lived 
assunder in bitter feud, as men rendered fickle by pros- 
perity, instead of being brought into brotherhood by a com- 
mon calamity. Weeks and months elapsed, without bring- 
ing the looked-for aid from Virginia, though that colony was 
within a few days' sail. Fears were now entertained that 
the long-boat had been either swallowed up in the sea, or 
wrecked on some savage coast; one or other of which most 
probably was the case, as nothing was ever heard of Raven 
and his comrades. 

Each party now set to work to build a vessel for itself 
out of the cedar with which the island abounded. The 
wreck of the Sea Vulture furnished rigging, and various other 
articles; but they had no iron for bolts, and other fasten- 
ings; and for want of pitch and tar, they payed the seams 
of their vessels with lime and turtle's oil, which soon dried, 
and became as hard as stone. 

On the tenth of May, 1610, they set sail, having been 
about nine months on the island. They reached Virginia 



8 THE BERMUDAS 

without farther accident, but found the colony in great dis- 
tress for provisions. The account they gave of the abund- 
ance that reigned in the Bermudas, and especially of the 
herds of swine that roamed the island, determined Lord 
Delaware, the governor of Virginia, to send thither for sup- 
plies. Sir George Somers, with his wonted promptness and 
generosity, offered to undertake what was still considered a 
dangerous voyage. Accordingly, on the nineteenth of June, 
he set sail, in his own cedar vessel of thirty tons, accom- 
panied by another small vessel, commanded by Captain 
Argall. 

The gallant Somers was doomed again to be tempest- 
tossed. His companion vessel was soon driven back to port, 
but he kept the sea; and, as usual, remained at his post on 
deck, in all weathers. His voyage was long and boisterous, 
and the fatigues and exposures which he underwent, were 
too much for a frame impaired by age, and by previous 
hardships. He arrived at Bermudas completely exhausted 
and broken down. 

His nephew, Captain Mathew Somers, attended him in 
his illness with affectionate assiduity. Finding his end ap- 
proaching, the veteran called his men together, and exhorted 
them to be true to the interests of Virginia; to procure pro- 
visions, with all possible despatch, and hasten back to the 
relief of the colony. With this dying charge, he gave up the 
ghost, leaving his nephew and crew overwhelmed with grief 
and consternation. Their first thought was to pay honour 
to his remains. Opening the body, they took out the heart 
and entrails, and buried them, erecting a cross over the 
grave. They then embalmed the body, and set sail with it 
for England ; thus, while paying empty honours to their de- 
ceased commander, neglecting his earnest wish and dying 
injunction, that they should return with relief to Virginia. 

The little bark arrived safely at Whitechurch, in Dorset- 



THE BERMUDAS 9 

shire, with its melancholy freight. The body of the worthy" 
Somers was interred with the military honours due to a 
brave soldier, and many volleys were fired over his grave. 
The Bermudas have since received the name of the Somer 
Islands, as a tribute to his memory. 

The accounts given by Captain Mathew Somers and his 
crew of the delightful climate, and the great beauty, fer- 
tility, and abundance of these islands, excited the zeal of 
enthusiasts, and the cupidity of speculators, and a plan was 
set on foot to colonize them. The Virginia company sold 
their right to the islands to one hundred and twenty of their 
own members, who erected themselves into a distinct cor- 
poration, under the name of the " Somer Island Society " ; 
and Mr. Richard More was sent out, in 161 2, as governor, 
with sixty men, to found a colony. 



YORKTOWN 
LORD CORNWALLIS* 

I HAVE the mortification to inform your Excellency that 
I have been forced to give up the posts of York and 
Gloucester, and to surrender the troops under my command, 
by capitulation, on the 19th instant, as prisoners of war 
to the combined forces of America and France. 

I never saw this post in a very favourable light, but when 
I found I was to be attacked in it in so unprepared a state, 
by so powerful an army and artillery, nothing but the hopes 
of relief would have induced me to attempt its defence, for 
I would either have endeavoured to escape to New York by 
rapid marches from the Gloucester side, immediately on the 
arrival of General Washington's troops at Williamsburg; 
or I would, notwithstanding the disparity of numbers, have 
attacked them in the open field, where it might have been 
just possible that fortune would have favoured the gallantry 
of the handful of troops under my command, but being as- 
sured by your Excellency's letters that every possible means 
would be tried by the navy and army to relieve us, I could 
not think myself at liberty to venture upon either of those 
desperate attempts; therefore, after remaining for two days 
in a strong position in front of this place in hopes of being 
attacked, upon observing that the enemy were taking meas- 
ures which could not fail of turning my left flank in a short 
time, and receiving on the second evening your letter of the 
24th of September, informing me that relief would sail about 
the 5th of October, I withdrew within the works on the 

1 Letter to Sir Henry Clinton. 
10 



YORKTOWN II 

night of the 29th of September, hoping by the labour and 
firmness of the soldiers to protract the defence until you 
could arrive. Everything was to be expected from the spirit 
of the troops, but every disadvantage attended their labour, 
as the works were to be continued under the enemy's fire, 
and our stock of intrenching tools, which did not much ex- 
ceed 400 when we began to work in the latter end of August, 
was now much diminished. 

The enemy broke ground on the night of the 30th, and 
constructed on that night, and the two following days and 
nights, two redoubts, which, with some works that had be- 
longed to our outward position, occupied a gorge between 
two creeks or ravines, which come from the river on each 
side of the town. On the night of the 6th of October they 
made their first parallel, extending from its right on the 
river, to a deep ravine on the left, nearly opposite to the 
centre of this place, and embracing our whole left at a dis- 
tance of 600 yards. Having perfected this parallel, their 
batteries opened on the evening of the 9th against our left, 
and other batteries fired at the same time against a redoubt 
advanced over the creek upon our right, and defended by 
about 120 men of the 23rd Regiment and Marines, who 
maintained that post with uncommon gallantry. The fire 
continued incessant from heavy cannon, and from mortars 
and howitzers throwing shells from 8 to 16 inches, until 
all our guns on the left were silenced, our work much dam- 
aged, and our loss of men considerable. On the night of 
the nth they began their second parallel, about 300 yards 
nearer to us. The troops being much weakened by sickness, 
as well as by the fire of the besiegers, and observing that the 
enemy had not only secured their flanks, but proceeded in 
every respect with the utmost regularity and caution, I could 
not venture so large sorties as to hope from them any con- 
siderable effect, but otherwise, I did everything in my power 



12 YORKTOWN 

to interrupt this work by opening new embrasures for guns 
and keeping up a constant fire from all the howitzers and 
small mortars that we could man. On the evening of the 
14th they assaulted and carried two redoubts that had been 
advanced about 300 yards for the purpose of delaying their 
approaches, and covering our left flank, and during the night 
included them in their second parallel, on which they con- 
tinued to work with the utmost exertion. Being perfectly 
sensible that our works could not stand many hours after 
the opening of the batteries of that parallel, we not only 
continued a constant fire with all our mortars and every 
gun that could be brought to bear upon it, but a little before 
daybreak on the morning of the 16th, I ordered a sortie of 
about 350 men, under the direction of Lieutenant-Colonel 
Abercrombie, to attack two batteries which appeared to be 
in the greatest forwardness, and to spike the guns. A detach- 
ment of Guards with the 80th Company of Grenadiers, 
under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Lake, attacked 
the one, and one of light infantry, under the command of 
Major Armstrong, attacked the other, and both succeeded 
in forcing the redoubts that covered them, spiking 11 guns 
and killing or wounding about 100 of the French troops, 
who had the guard of that part of the trenches, and with 
little loss on our side. This action, though extremely hon- 
ourable to the officers and soldiers who executed it, proved 
of little public advantage, for the cannon having been spiked 
in a hurry, were soon rendered fit for service again, and 
before dark the whole parallel and batteries appeared to be 
nearly complete. At this time we knew that there was no 
part of the whole front attacked on which we could show a 
single gun, and our shells were nearly expended. I, there- 
fore, had only to choose between preparing to surrender next 
day, or endeavouring to get off with the greatest part of the 
troops, and I determined to attempt the latter. In this sit- 



YORKTOWN 13 

uation, with my little force divided, the enemy's batteries 
opened at daybreak. The passage between this place and 
Gloucester was much exposed, but the boats having now 
returned, they were ordered to bring back the troops that had 
passed during the night, and they joined us in the forenoon, 
without much loss. Our works, in the meantime, were going 
to ruin, and not having been able to strengthen them by an 
abattis, nor in any other manner but by a slight fraizing 
which the enemy's artillery were demolishing wherever they 
fired, my opinion entirely coincided with that of the engineer 
and principal officers of the army, that they were in many 
places assailable in the forenoon, and that by the continuance 
of the same fire for a few hours longer, they would be in 
such a state as to render it desperate, with our numbers, to 
attempt to maintain them. We at that time could not fire 
a single gun ; only one 8-inch and little more than 100 
Cohorn shells remained. A diversion by the French ships 
of war that lay at the mouth of York River was to be ex- 
pected. Our numbers had been diminished by the enemy's 
fire, but particularly by sickness, and the strength and spirits 
of those in the works were much exhausted, by the constant 
watching and unremitting duty. Under all these circum- 
stances, I thought it would have been wanton and inhuman 
to the last degree to sacrifice the lives of this small body of 
gallant soldiers, who had ever behaved with so much fidelity 
and courage, by exposing them to an assault which, from the 
numbers and precautions of the enemy, could not fail to 
succeed. I therefore proposed to capitulate; and I have the 
honour to enclose to your Excellency the copy of the cor- 
respondence between General Washington and me on that 
subject, and the terms of capitulation agreed upon. I sin- 
cerely lament that better could not be obtained, but I have 
neglected nothing in my power to alleviate the misfortune 
and distress of both officers and soldiers. The men are well 



I 4 YORKTOWN 

clothed and provided with necessaries, and I trust will be 
regularly supplied by the means of the officers that are per- 
mitted to remain with them. The treatment, in general, 
that we have received from the enemy since our surrender 
has been perfectly good and proper, but the kindness and 
attention that has been shown to us by the French officers 
in particular — their delicate sensibility of our situation — 
their generous and pressing offer of money, both public and 
private, to any amount — has really gone beyond what I can 
possibly describe, and will, I hope, make an impression on 
the breast of every British officer, whenever the fortune of 
war should put any of them into our power. 



MANHATTAN ISLAND 
DAVID T. VALENTINE 

THE first discovery has been generally ascribed to Henry 
Hudson, an Englishman by birth, who, in the year 
1690, being then in the service of the Dutch, sailed west- 
ward from the shores of Europe, in search of a northwest 
passage to the East Indies. The vessel commanded by Hud- 
son was a small yacht, called the Half Moon, manned by 
from sixteen to twenty men, partly of Dutch and partly of 
English birth. This vessel was not over eighty tons burden, 
being designed for coasting. After traversing the American 
coasts, between Newfoundland and the Chesapeake Bay, he 
turned his course northward again, designing to explore, 
leisurely, the extent of the country thus passed by. On the 
1st of September, 1609, he discovered the Highlands of 
Neversink, described by him as a " very good land to fall 
in with and a pleasant land to see." The next day he 
rounded Sandy Hook, and the second day following he 
anchored under the Jersey shore in the south bay. 

The Indians, flocking to the shore in great numbers, ap- 
pear at once to have understood the designs of their visitors, 
for, whether by tradition or rumour from other lands, they 
seem to have been acquainted with the articles of trade most 
in use between the whites and the Indians, and were apt at 
driving a bargain. They offered tobacco and other products 
in exchange for knives and beads. Their disposition seemed 
friendly, and the women presented such articles of food as 
they had prepared in that season. 

On the 6th of September, a boat's crew, despatched by 
Hudson to explore the coast further inland, entered the 

15 



l6 MANHATTAN ISLAND 

Narrows and came in sight of Manhattan Island. They de- 
scribed the land encircling the bay as covered with trees, 
grass and flowers, and the air as filled with delightful fra- 
grance. The return of this small party was unfortunate, 
as, for some unexplained reason, the boat was attacked by 
two canoes filled with Indians, and one of the crew, named 
John Coleman, was killed by an arrow piercing his throat. 
It seems probable from the course taken by Hudson, after 
this disaster, that the assault by the natives was not without 
provocation, as friendly intercourse was still kept up between 
the parties. 

On the nth of September, Hudson weighed and sailed 
up through the Narrows. Having anchored in New York 
harbour, he was visited by the neighbouring Indians, who 
made great show of love, giving presents of tobacco and 
Indian corn. He remained at anchor but one day, and, on 
the 1 2th of September, took his course up the river, which 
has since borne his name. In his exploration to the head of 
navigation, near the present site of Albany, he was engaged 
about three weeks, and finally put to sea on the 4th of 
October, making directly for Holland with news of his 
discovery of this fine river and its adjacent country, which 
he described as offering every inducement for settlers or 
traders that could be desired. 

Besides the fertility of the soil, which was satisfactorily 
shown by the great abundance of grain and vegetables found 
in the possession of the Indians, a still more enticing pros- 
pect was held out to the view of the merchant, in the abund- 
ance of valuable furs observed in the country, which were 
to be had at a very little cost. Hudson had, therefore, 
scarcely made publicly known the character of the country 
visited by him, when several merchants of Amsterdam fitted 
out trading vessels and despatched them to this river. Their 
returns were highly satisfactory, and arrangements were im- 



MANHATTAN ISLAND 17 

mediately made to establish a settled agency here to super- 
intend the collection of the furs and the trade with the 
Indians while the ships should be on their long journey 
between the two hemispheres. The agents thus employed 
pitched their cabins on the south point of Manhattan Island, 
the head man being Hendrick Corstiaensen, who was still 
the chief of the settlement in 1613, at which period an 
English ship, sailing along the coast from Virginia, entered 
the harbour on a visit of observation. Finding Corstiaen- 
sen here, with his company of traders, the English captain 
summoned him to acknowledge the jurisdiction of Virginia 
over the country, or else to depart. The former alternative 
was chosen by the trader, and he agreed to pay a small 
tribute to the Governor of Virginia in token of his right 
of dominion. The Dutch were thereupon left to prosecute 
their trade without further molestation. 

The Government of Holland did not, however, recognize 
the claims of England to jurisdiction over the whole Ameri- 
can coast, and took measures to encourage the discovery and 
appropriation of additional territory by a decree giving to 
any discoverers of new countries the exclusive privilege of 
trading thither for four successive voyages to the exclusion 
of all other persons. This enactment induced several mer- 
chants to fit out five small ships for coasting along the 
American shores in this vicinity. One of these vessels, com- 
manded by Captain Block, soon after its arrival on the 
coast was accidentally destroyed by fire. Block immediately 
began the construction of another, of thirty-eight feet keel, 
forty-four and a half feet on deck, and eleven and a half 
foot beam, which was the first vessel launched in the waters 
of New York. She was called the Unrest or Restless, and 
plowed her keel through the waters of Hell Gate and the 
Sound, the pioneer of all other vessels, except the bark canoes 
of the aboriginal inhabitants. 



18 MANHATTAN ISLAND 

The several ships despatched on this exploring expedition 
having returned to Holland, from their journals and sur- 
veys a map of a large extent of country was made, over 
which the Dutch claimed jurisdiction, and to which they 
gave the name of New Netherland. The owners of these 
vessels, as the reward of their enterprise, were granted the 
promised monopoly of trade thither for four voyages to be 
completed within three years, commencing on the first of 
January, 1615. 

These merchants seem to have been composed in part of 
those who had established the first trading-post here, but 
having increased their numbers and capital, and enlarged 
their former designs of trade, formed themselves into a com- 
pany under the name of the " United New Netherland 
Company." Corstiaensen was continued the principal agent 
here, and they likewise established a post at the head of the 
river on an island opposite the present site of Albany. Forts 
of a rude description (being merely inclosures of high pali- 
sades) were erected at both places. 

The privileges granted to the " United New Netherland 
Company " being, however, limited in respect to time, their 
establishment on this island can hardly be considered as a 
permanent settlement; the cabins of the settlers were nearly 
of equal rudeness with those of their Indian neighbours ; and 
but few of the luxuries of civilization found their way into 
their habitations. The great object of the settlement was, 
however, successfully carried on, and stores of furs were in 
readiness to freight the ships on their periodical visits from 
the Fatherland. No interruption of the friendly intercourse 
carried on with the Indians took place, but, on the contrary, 
the whites were abundantly supplied by the natives with food 
and most other necessities of life, without personal labour 
and at trifling cost. 

The Indian tribes in the neighbourhood of this trading- 



MANHATTAN ISLAND 19 

post were the Manhattans, occupying this island ; the Pacha- 
mies, the Tankiteks and the Wickqueskeeks, occupying the 
country on the east sides of the Hudson River, south of the 
Highlands; the Hackingsacks and the Raritans, on the west 
side of the river and the Jersey shore; the Canarsees, the 
Rockways, the Merrikokes, the Marsapeagues, the Mattine- 
cocks, the Nissaquages, the Corchaugs, the Secataugs and the 
Shinecocks, on Long Island. 

The trade of this colony of settlers was sufficiently prof- 
itable to render its permanency desirable to the United New 
Netherland Company, as it is found that at the termination 
of their grant, in the year 161 8, they endeavoured to pro- 
cure from the Government in Holland an extension of their 
term, but did not succeed in obtaining more than a special 
licence, expiring yearly, which they held for two or three 
subsequent years. 

In the meantime, a more extensive association had been 
formed among the merchants and capitalists of Holland, 
which in the year 1621, having matured its plans and 
projects, received a charter under the title of the " West 
India Company." Their charter gave them the exclusive 
privilege of trade on the whole American coast, both of the 
northern and southern continents, so far as the jurisdiction 
of Holland extended. This great company was invested 
with most of the functions of a distinct and separate govern- 
ment. They were allowed to appoint governors and other 
officers; to settle the forms of administering justice; to 
make Indian treaties, and to enact laws. 

Having completed their arrangements for the organiza- 
tion of their government in New Netherland, the West 
India Company despatched their pioneer vessel hither in the 
year 1623. This was the ship New Netherland, a staunch 
vessel, which continued her voyages to this port, as a regular 
packet for more than thirty years subsequently. On board 



20 MANHATTAN ISLAND 

the New Netherland were thirty families to begin the colony 
— this colony being designed for a settlement at the head 
of the river, the vessel landed her passengers and freight 
near the present site of Albany, where a settlement was 
established. The return cargo of the New Netherland was 
five hundred otter skins, one thousand five hundred beavers, 
and other freight, valued at about twelve thousand dollars. 

It having been determined that the headquarters of the 
company's establishment in New Netherland should be fixed 
on Manhattan Island, preparations for a more extensive 
colony to be planted here were made, and, in 1625, two ships 
cleared from Holland for this place. On board these vessels 
were shipped one hundred and \hree head of cattle, together 
with stallions, mares, hogs and sheep in a proportionate 
number. Accompanying these were a considerable number 
of settlers, with their families, supplied with agricultural 
implements and seed for planting; household furniture, and 
the other necessaries for establishing the colony. Other 
ships followed with similar freight, and the number of 
emigrants amounted to about two hundred souls. 

On the arrival of the ships in the harbour, the cattle were 
landed, in the first instance on the island now called Gov- 
ernor's Island, where they were left on pasturage until con- 
venient arrangements could be made on the mainland to 
prevent their straying in the woods. The want of water, 
however, compelled their speedy transfer to Manhattan 
Island, where, being put on the fresh grass, they generally 
throve well, although about twenty died in the course of the 
season, from eating some poisonous vegetable. 

The settlers commenced their town by staking out a fort 
on the south point of the island, under the direction of one 
Kryn Frederick, an engineer sent along with them for that 
purpose; and a horse-mill having been erected, the second 
story of that building was so constructed as to afford accom- 



MANHATTAN ISLAND 21 

modation for the congregation for religious purposes. The 
habitations of the settlers were of the simplest construction, 
little better, indeed, than those of their predecessors. A 
director-general had been sent to superintend the interests 
of the company, in the person of Peter Minuit, who, in the 
year 1626, purchased Manhattan Island from the Indian 
proprietors for the sum of sixty guilders, or twenty four 
dollars, by which the title to the whole island, containing 
about twenty-two thousand acres, became vested in the 
West India Company. 

The success of the company proved itself, for a short 
period, by the rise in the value in their stock, which soon 
stood at a high premium in Holland. Various interests, 
however, were at work in the company to turn its advan- 
tages to individual account, and, in 1628, an act was passed 
under the title of " Freedoms and Exemptions granted to 
all such as shall plant Colonies in New Netherlands." 
This edict gave to such persons as should send over a colony 
of fifty souls above fifteen years old, the title of " pa- 
troons," and the privilege of selecting any land (except on 
the island of Manhattan), for a distance of eight miles on 
each side of any river, and so far inland as should be thought 
convenient, the company stipulating, however, that all the 
products of the plantation thus established should be first 
brought to the Manhattans, before being sent elsewhere for 
trade. They also reserved to themselves the sole trade with 
the Indians for peltries in all places where they had an 
agency established. 

With respect to such private persons as should emigrate at 
their own expense, they were allowed as much land as they 
could properly improve, upon satisfying the Indians therefor. 

These privileges gave an impetus to emigration, and as- 
sisted, in a great degree, in permanently establishing the 
settlement of the country. 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 
GEORGE N. CURZON 

OINCE 1 85 1, when the first stranger entered the Yo- 
^ Semite, it has been visited by some forty-three thousand 
persons. At first, the facilities of access and accommoda- 
tion being very scant, the influx was so slow that at the 
end of ten years it had only reached six hundred and fifty- 
three for the entire period. Then it began to advance by 
leaps and bounds, till the yearly average has now risen above 
two thousand five hundred, a total which with the improve- 
ments in railroads and hotels that are still in course of erec- 
tion will be largely augmented in the near future. 

When I spoke of the discovery of the Yosemite Valley, 
I must be understood of course to refer to the first invasion 
of its borders by the foot of the white man. Long be- 
fore, perhaps for centuries, it had formed a secure retreat 
for Indian tribes, who in the pathless glens and gorges of 
the Sierras conducted an internecine tribal warfare, or pur- 
sued an animal quarry scarcely wilder than themselves. It 
was by collision with these very Indians that the beauti- 
ful valley accidentally became known to the pioneers of 
what we call Western civilization, who at the beginning 
of the second half of the last century poured into California 
in the mad thirst for gold, sowing in rapacity and lust 
and crime the seeds from which civilization and religion, 
too often begotten in a like stormy travail, were at a 
later date to spring. 

At first the Indians did not recognize as enemies the 
scattered groups of gold-diggers who suddenly alighted upon 




Copyright, 1901, by Detroit Photographic Co. 

EL CAPITAN, YOSEMITE VALLEY 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 23 

their borders. But when the groups became a swarm, over- 
spreading the country with lawless violence and sweeping 
all before them, jealousy and recrimination set in. These 
strained relations presently culminated in an attack by the 
Indians upon a trading-camp at Fresno, and the massacre 
of all the whites there assembled. This was in December, 
1850. A company of volunteers was immediately raised 
among the traders for purposes of self-protection, retalia- 
tion, and revenge; but the evil grew so rapidly that more 
authoritative measures became necessary. Accordingly, in 
January, 1851, by order of the Governor of the State, a 
company of two hundred able-bodied militia was enrolled, 
Mr. J. D. Savage, the owner of the trading-station orig- 
inally destroyed, being elected first commander. Recog- 
nizing, however, the justice of the irritation naturally felt 
by the Indians at the invasion of their patrimony, and 
anxious at all hazards to preserve peace, the Government 
very wisely despatched emissaries among the surrounding 
tribes, with power to negotiate and distribute gifts; while 
they set apart a reserve territory for such Indians as should 
be found amenable to these pacifying influences. Still there 
were some who held out, the principal of them being a tribe 
who were vaguely reported as dwelling in a deep, rocky 
valley to the northeast. Communication was opened with 
them, and their chief was summoned and came to a 
" palaver." But the requisite assurances not being obtain- 
able, the order to advance was at length given, and the 
expedition set out in quest of the mysterious retreat. It 
was on May 6th, 1851, that from the mountains on the 
south there burst upon the astonished gaze of the soldiers 
of the Mariposa Battalion the first sight of the enchanted 
valley. They gave to it the name Yo-Semite, from that of 
the tribe, the Yo-Semites, or Grizzly Bears, by whom it was 
inhabited, abandoning the beautiful name of Ah-wah-nee, 



24 THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

or the Broad Canon, by which it had been known in the 
Indian vocabulary. The difficulty with the Indians was 
soon at an end, and the war, before it had lasted six 
months, was concluded in July, 1 851. It was a curious 
sequel to the pacific termination of the struggle that the 
leaders of both sides, I. D. Savage, and the Indian chief, 
Ten-ie-ya, each met at a later date with a violent death, 
the one at the hand of a fellow-white, the other in a foray 
with a neighbouring tribe. 

The discovery of the valley was not followed by an im- 
mediate accession of visitors. It was not till four years 
later that a small body of enterprising men, who had heard 
the tales circulated by the disbanded militiamen, resolved to 
make another expedition to the deserted valley. Meanwhile, 
there having been no communication in the interim, the 
trails through the forest had been obliterated and the mem- 
ory of the militiamen had grown dim. Nor was it till 
some Indians had been procured as guides from the Reserve 
that this pioneer party of tourists was enabled to make its 
way to the coveted destination. To any one acquainted 
with the natural features of this Californian scenery — an 
immense sweep of lofty mountains intersected by ravines 
and clothed with a dense forest-growth — the long seclusion 
of the valley, and the difficulty in re-discovering it even 
when already discovered, will not appear a matter of 
surprise. 

From this expedition, which was thoroughly successful, 
and by whose members many of the names were given by 
which the mountains and waterfalls are now known, may 
be dated the opening of the Yosemite Valley to travellers 
and tourists. The prodigious increase in communication 
since that date has already been noted. 

There yet remained one step before this splendid acqui- 
sition could be turned to real account, with a double regard 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 25 

for its own priceless security and for the free but orderly 
enjoyment of the public. The Government of the United 
States, which has never been behindhand in acts of similar 
liberal and far-seeing policy (for there may be statesman- 
ship even in landscape-gardening), took up the question in 
1864. In the session of that year Mr. T. S. Conness, 
Senator for California, very appropriately introduced a bill 
for the public dedication of the Yosemite Valley, which was 
passed without demur by both Chambers of Congress. In 
this Bill, which was approved on June 30th, 1864, it was 
declared : " Be it enacted by the Senate and House of 
Representatives of the United States of America, in Congress 
assembled, that there shall be and is hereby granted to the 
State of California the cleft or gorge in the granite peak of 
the Sierra Nevada Mountains, situated in the County of 
Mariposa in the State aforesaid, and the headwaters of the 
Merced River, and known as the Yosemite Valley, with its 
branches or spurs in estimated length fifteen miles, and in 
average width one mile back from the main edge of the 
precipice on each side of the valley; with the stipulation 
nevertheless that the said State shall accept this grant upon 
the express condition that the premises shall be held for 
public use, resort, and recreation; and shall be inalienable 
for all time." 

Then followed a similar provision for the neighbouring 
Mariposa Big Tree Grove. 

The valley and its surroundings having thus solemnly 
been handed over to the State of California, the Governor 
of that State forthwith appointed a Board of Commissioners 
for the due administration of the trust, an act which in 
1866 received the confirmation of the Senate and Assembly 
of the same State. The whole machinery was thus set in 
working order; and by the Board so nominated the valley 
is guarded and governed to this day. 



26 THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

Any Englishman who does not happen to be among the 
fortunate twelve hundred who have so far visited the spot, 
may at this stage very legitimately enquire, " What is the 
Yosemite Valley, and what are its peculiar features? " 
Without any desire to usurp the functions, and still less to 
imitate the style, of the numerous available guide-books, I 
would briefly answer as follows: 

One hundred and fifty miles nearly due east of San Fran- 
cisco, where the middle ranges of the Sierra Nevada rise from 
the San Joaquin valley in grand wooded outlines, sweep upon 
sweep, to a height of thirteen thousand feet above the sea, 
there is hewn from east to west a profound ravine between 
two confronting barriers of precipitous rock. Over a space 
varying from three-quarters of a mile to two miles in width, 
and along a line some six miles in extent, these grim natural 
fortifications look out at each other and down upon a peaceful 
valley slumbering in the deep trench, three-quarters of a mile 
in sheer depth, below. Many English persons are familiar 
with the noble spectacle presented by the northern front of 
the Rock of Gibraltar, on the side where a perpendicular 
face of rock, twelve hundred feet high, towers gloriously 
above the flat space known as the Neutral Ground. Con- 
ceive this cliff trebled in height, Pelion on Ossa and Olympus 
on both, extended over a line twice the length of the Long 
Walk in Windsor Park, and confronted at the varying 
distances I have named by another wall of like character 
and similar dimensions: conceive these parallel rocky walls, 
while retaining their uniform abruptness and height, to be 
shaped into stormy outlines of towers and pinnacles and 
domes: conceive further the intervening space to be sown 
with great trees and flowering shrubs, a paltry plantation 
when viewed from above, but a mighty forest-growth below, 
and to be traversed by the coils of a winding river: con- 
ceive, I say, this startling combination of features, and you 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 27 

will still have but a dim and inadequate likeness of the 
Yosemite Valley. 

But what is perhaps the chief characteristic remains to be 
told. I have called it the Valley of Waterfalls; and herein 
consists its distinction from all other remarkable valleys, 
so far as I know, in the world. 

Straight over these mountain walls, not down the bed of 
converging ravines, but from upland valleys unseen above 
and beyond, come toppling the heaven-sent waters that sup- 
ply the shining River of Mercy (Rio de la Merced), mur- 
muring so musically below. Almost may we say: 

" Not in entire forgetfulness, 
And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glory do they come 
From God who is their home." 

For, as with a rush and a leap they spring from the craggy 
ledges, their forms are intertwined with rainbows and au- 
reoled with light. Thus they descend, soft vaporous shapes, 
spray-clad, that glimmer along the aerial stairway like spirits 
passing up and down a Jacob's ladder from heaven to earth, 
until the phantasy is shivered in the tumult and thunder 
of the plunge upon the echoing platform or in the deep, 
hollow pools at the base. From a distance of miles these 
waterfalls may be seen hung like white streamers against 
the mountain-walls. Even there a faint whisper sings in 
the air, deepening as we advance to a hum and roar, till 
about their feet the atmosphere is filled and choked with 
the stunning shocks of sound. 

They vary considerably in height, being sometimes inter- 
cepted in their descent or broken up into more than one cas- 
cade. Fifteen hundred feet is the height of the highest or 
upper Yosemite fall; but this is the uppermost of a trio of 
cascades, one above the other, the united fall of which 



28 THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

amounts to two thousand six hundred feet, and when seen 
from a distance can be mistaken for a single uninterrupted 
fall. Inevitably, too, but unfortunately, they vary in vol- 
ume according to the season of the year, the depth of rain- 
fall, and the duration of the winter snows. In the early 
spring, when the feeders are full, each brook becomes a 
torrent and each fall a cataract. Then the Yosemite is pre- 
eminently the Valley of Waterfalls; for not a mile of its 
rocky palisades can be passed but there comes foaming from 
the sky a precipitous shoot of what looks like molten snow. 
But in the late summer the bulk is often sadly diminished, 
the brooks dwindle into rills, and the watery fleeces become 
ribands and wisps and threads, fluttering feebly and for- 
lornly down the stained tracks of their lost spring-glory. 

Of these falls perhaps the most beautiful at all times and 
seasons is that to which the pioneer tourists of 1855 gave the 
name of the Bridal Veil. It falls sheer for nine hundred 
feet, the rocky rim from which it leaps being outlined as 
sharply as a razor's edge against the sky. The name is not 
ill-applied, for as the breeze catches the descending jets, 
when not in full volume, it puffs them outward from the 
rock and wafts them in gauzy festoons from side to side. 
Hither and thither float the misty folds, like a diaphanous 
veil of tulle. Lower down the water, pouring in miniature 
cataracts from the ledges, alone shows what is the quan- 
tity and what the texture of the material. The Indian 
name for this fall was Pohono, or the Spirit of the Evil 
Wind. They connected with it some mysterious and bale- 
ful influence, hearing the mutter of spirit-voices in the 
sound, and scenting the cold breath of a destroying angel 
in the breeze of the enchanted fall. To pass by it was of 
ill-omen, to sleep near it was perilous, to point the finger 
of scorn at it was death. An Indian woman, who once fell 
from the slippery ledge at the top and was dashed to pieces, 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 29 

was believed to have been swept away by the Evil One. 
Unlike the artistic though rationalizing temper of the an- 
cient Greeks, who recognized in the legendary carrying off 
of Orithyia by Boreas, the North Wind, the metaphor of a 
tempestuous love, the Indian mind, plunged in sad super- 
stition, could see nothing in a similar fatality but the re- 
vengeful finger of doom. This is not the only case in which 
we cannot help regretting the substitution of a modern for 
the more significant or traditional Indian name. No great 
propriety and still less originality was shown in the selec- 
tion of such titles as the Riband, the Vernal, and the Ne- 
vada. How much prettier, in meaning if not in sound, were 
Lung-oo-too-koo-yah, the Graceful and Slender One; Pi- 
wy-ack, the Shower of Diamonds; Yo-wi-ye, the Twisting 
One, and Tu-lu-la-wiack, the Rush of Waters. Gladly, 
too, would we see Mirror Lake reconverted into Ke-ko-too- 
yen, the Sleeping Water. 

The Indian imagination seems to have been more poet- 
ically excited by waterfalls than by mountains; for the 
names which they gave to the latter were in some cases 
fantastic and less worthy of appropriation. The two extraor- 
dinary rocks on the southern side of the valley, which from 
their shape and juxtaposition are aptly called the Cathedral 
Spires, — being indeed as like the west front of a Gothic 
minster as the architecture of Nature could be expected to 
model them — were known to the Indians as Poo-see-na- 
Chuck-ka, the Acorn Baskets, from the receptacle of that 
name, shaped like an inverted cone, which is carried on 
their backs by the Indian women. The three pointed rocks 
on the other side of the valley, now called the Three 
Brothers, were Pom-pom-pa-sa, or the Jumping Frogs. The 
Sentinel Dome was Ho-ko-owa, or the Lizard, from a dark, 
lizard-shaped stain in the rock. The North Dome, — that 
curious smooth cupola of granite that overhangs the entrance 



3 o THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

to the northermost of the two eastern forks — was To-coy-a, 
from the covering over the face of a papoose carried in its 
basket-cradle on its mother's back. More fitly the Half- 
Dome, — most prominent of all the giants of the valley, 
being, as its name implies, a great bald hump of rock (four 
thousand eight hundred feet above the valley-floor and nine 
thousand above the sea) smooth and rounded on one side, 
but suddenly cleft in twain through the middle, as though 
by the slash of some Titan's axe — was named by the In- 
dians Tis-sa-ack, the Goddess of the Valley. Finally El 
Capitan (a name given by the Mission Indians who had 
borrowed it from the Spanish padres), that magnificent 
bluff, so familiar from a hundred photographs and sketches, 
which stands like a sturdy warder at the western threshold 
of the valley, was known as Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah, the Great 
Guardian Deity. There is another respect, besides the 
waterfalls, in which late summer and autumn in the Yo- 
semite are the sufferers to the gain of the spring. This is 
in the matter of vegetation. At all times a rich forest-growth 
adorns the valley; and it is only by comparison with the 
celebrated Big Trees (Sequoia gigantia) that grow in the 
neighbourhood some thirty miles away, and are usually 
visited in the course of the same expedition, that these noble 
Yosemite stems, one hundred and seventy to two hundred 
and twenty feet high, straight as an obelisk and tall as a 
tower, are not considered giants in the land. 

The roadway winds in and out of the solemn sylvan 
aisles, the light scarcely breaking through the clustered 
leafy capitals and shedding itself in dust of gold upon the 
big cones and needles that litter the forest-floor. Here are 
yellow pines and sugar pines, the red or incense cedar, the 
Douglas spruce, and three varieties of silver fir. Here, too, 
are the more familiar figures of the common oak and the 
evergreen oak, the quaking aspen and the willow, alders, 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 31 

poplars, maples, and laurel. The majority of these con- 
tinue their bounty right through the summer; but it is in 
the undergrowth and shrubs and flowers that the visitor 
in the spring finds such an additional delight. Then the 
open spaces are gay with the festal bloom of the manzanita, 
with azaleas, yellow and white and pink, with the soft 
plumes of the California lilac, with dogwood and prim- 
roses, with the syringa, the butterfly tulip, and the white 
lily. The trails are bright with their colours and sweet 
with their fragrance, and all Nature smiles. 

Being even at its base as much as four thousand feet 
above the sea, the Yosemite Valley enjoys a very equable 
temperature, the thermometer seldom pointing to more 
than 86° in summer. The orientation of the cutting is 
moreover the source of a twofold charm. Running, as the 
valley does, almost due east and west, the sea-breezes that 
pour in at the Golden Gate come swiftly over the inter- 
vening plains and blow an incessant draught from end to 
end of the gorge. To the same accident of site we owe the 
splendours of sunrise and sunset. Did the valley face north 
and south, one face of it would be perpetually in shadow. 
As it is, when the morning sun has topped the eastern 
heights, its rays run swiftly from peak to peak right down 
the full length of the ravine, which in a few moments is 
flooded with the golden glory. Similarly as the declining 
orb sinks opposite the western doorway, both faces of rock, 
from El Capitan to the Half-Dome, attend the dying couch 
and are gilded with the vanishing beam. 

If it be asked in what special features, other than the 
broad structural outlines which have already been described, 
the wonder of the Yosemite consists, I would reply, in the 
solemn uniformity of colouring, in the nakedness of the rocky 
fronts, and in the absolutely vertical cleavage from cap to 
base. There is none of that gorgeous variety of colouring 



32 THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

that results from different roek-strata, or, as in the famous 
canon of the Yellowstone, from the chemical action of min- 
eral deposits and boiling springs. The rock is everywhere 
an ashen grey granite, which in places where the surface 
layer has scaled off becomes a pale, or, under the sunlight, a 
glittering white. Only here and there, where through the 
long years streams, too thin to make a waterfall, have 
trickled down the bare face, are black splashes and streaks 
like the dishevelled tresses of a woman's hair. But the very 
absence of variety, the gleaming monochrome of stone, has 
an indefinable grandeur of its own, and strikes the spec- 
tator from below with a peculiar awe. The two other fea- 
tures I have mentioned are closely connected ; for it is the 
vertically of the cliffs that is responsible for the almost 
total absence of vegetation from their faces. Now and then 
a solitary pine has secured a precarious foothold upon some 
tiny ledge ; but for the most part not even Nature is allowed 
to plant an excrescence. Where the sheer walls are inter- 
spersed with slopes, these lend whatever of contrast and 
colour may be needed, being sufficiently clad with under- 
growth and shrubs. 

If a single point be named from which a finer view than 
elsewhere can be obtained, to the rocky height known as 
Glacier Point should be conceded the honour. It is three 
thousand and two hundred and fifty-seven feet in sheer 
height above the valley, which here expands to its greatest 
width. From east to west its length is laid bare, even to the 
end of the forks into which it bifurcates at the eastern 
extremity, and the most important waterfalls are all in 
view. A big stone pitched from the summit will not strike 
the rock till sixteen seconds have been counted, and then at 
a considerable distance from the bottom. A tale is told in 
one of the guide-books of an antique hen which, for the 
satisfaction of a party of visitors, was tossed over the pre- 



THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 33 

cipitous bluff. Down and ever down sank the hapless fowl, 
till it became a tiny ball of feathers, then a speck, and 
finally vanished altogether in the abyss. The spectators, 
somewhat chagrined at this gratuitous sacrifice of animal 
life, ventured upon a remonstrance, but were met with the 
cheerful reply : " Don't be alarmed about that chicken, 
ladies! She's used to it. She goes over that cliff every day 
during the season." The story goes on to relate that the 
same party, descending the cliff in the course of the after- 
noon, encountered the old hen, uninjured, composedly as- 
cending the trail. 

Various theories have been advanced to explain the for- 
mation of this remarkable valley. There is one school of 
geologists, headed by Professor Whitney (the author of the 
best hand-book to the Yosemite), who believe it to have 
arisen, or rather sunk, from a subsidence in the soil between 
the rocky walls. Others have argued that it is a fissure 
cleft by volcanic action in the very core of the granite. 
Were not both these theories unsupported either by local or 
collateral evidence, there is yet that in the valley itself 
which testifies irresistibly to a different origin. The mys- 
terious handwriting of Nature is engraven upon the crags; 
and we must believe that the Yosemite, like many another 
deep valley and grim gorge, has been fashioned by the gi- 
gantic agencies of frost and ice. On the northern wall may 
be traced in many places the print of icy fingers, those un- 
mistakable lateral striations that show where the remorse- 
less touch has passed. The rounded surface of the domes, 
the polished faces of rock, the burnished recumbent boul- 
ders, the evidence of summits and sides and base, all tell 
the same tale. In the northern fork, near the Mirror Lake, 
may be seen heaps of colossal debris which, detached from 
the Half-Dome, have slid down some prehistoric ice-slope 
and have been deposited, not at the foot of the precipice 



34 THE VALLEY OF WATERFALLS 

from which they fell, but on the opposite side of the ravine. 
In more than one place are palpable relics of vast glacial 
moraines. There cannot be much doubt that at some remote 
period (we need not attempt to estimate when) the entire 
valley from roof to floor was packed with a huge ice-field, 
over a mile and a half in depth, that easily overlapped the 
rim and extended to the summits of the adjacent and supe- 
rior heights. Then when the age of disintegration set in, 
how mightily must the giant fingers have torn and wrenched, 
have split and riven, have scraped and ground! What a 
work of cleaving precipices and snapping projections, of 
crushing obstacles and pulverizing fragments! With what 
superhuman strength was the great ploughshare driven 
through the heart of the everlasting hills! We crawl like 
ants in the furrow, happy if in our day some Daniel arises 
to interpret to us the mystic handwriting on the wall. 



BUNKER HILL 
DANIEL WEBSTER 

NO national drama was ever developed, in a more inter- 
esting and splendid first scene. The incidents and 
the results of the battle itself were most important, and 
indeed most wonderful. As a mere battle, few surpass it in 
whatever engages and interests the attention. It was fought, 
on a conspicuous eminence, in the immediate neighbourhood 
of a populous city; and consequently in the view of thou- 
sands of spectators. The attacking army moved over a 
sheet of water to the assault. The operations and move- 
ments were of course all visible and distinct. Those who 
looked on from the houses and heights of Boston had a 
fuller view of every important operation and event, than 
can ordinarily be had of any battle, or than can possibly 
be had of such as are fought on a more extended ground, or 
by detachments of troops acting in different places, and at 
different times, and in some measure independently of each 
other. When the British columns were advancing to the 
attack, the flames of Charlestown (fired, as is generally 
supposed, by a shell), began to ascend. The spectators, far 
outnumbering both armies, thronged and crowded on every 
height and every point which afforded a view of the scene, 
themselves constituted a very important part of it. 

The troops of the two armies seemed like so many com- 
batants in an amphitheatre. The manner in which they 
should acquit themselves was to be judged of, not as in 
other cases of military engagements, by reports and future 
history, but by a vast and anxious assembly already on the 

35 



36 BUNKER HILL 

spot, and waiting with unspeakable concern and emotion 
the progress of the day. 

In other battles the recollection of wives and children, 
has been used as an excitement to animate the warrior's 
breast and nerve his arm. Here was not a mere recollection, 
but an actual presence of them, and other dear connexions, 
hanging on the skirts of the battle, anxious and agitated, 
feeling almost as if wounded themselves by every blow of 
the enemy, and putting forth, as it were, their own strength, 
and all the energy of their own throbbing bosoms, into every 
gallant effort of their warring friends. 

But there was a more comprehensive and vastly more 
important view of that day's contest, than has been men- 
tioned, — a view, indeed, which ordinary eyes, bent intently 
on what was immediately before them, did not embrace, but 
which was perceived in its full extent and expansion by 
minds of a higher order. Those men who were at the head 
of the Colonial councils, who had been engaged for years in 
the previous stages of the quarrel with England, and who 
had been accustomed to look forward to the future, were 
well apprised of the magnitude of the events likely to hang 
on the business of that day. They saw in it not only a 
battle, but the beginning of a civil war, of unmeasured 
extent and uncertain issue. All America and all England 
were likely to be deeply concerned in the consequences. 
The individuals themselves, who knew full well what 
agency they had had, in bringing affairs to this crisis, had 
need of all their courage; — not that disregard of personal 
safety, in which the vulgar suppose true courage to con- 
sist, but that high and fixed moral sentiment, that steady 
and decided purpose, which enables men to pursue a dis- 
tant end, with a full view of the difficulties and dangers 
before them, and with a conviction, that, before they arrive 
at the proposed end, should they ever reach it, they must 




i •■-. a 



Copyright, I90S, bj Detroit Ph itogra]iliii: Co. 

BUNKER HILL MONUMEN' 



BUNKER HILL 37 

pass through evil report as well as good report, and be 
liable to obloquy, as well as to defeat. 

Spirits, that fear nothing else, fear disgrace; and this 
danger is necessarily encountered by those who engage in 
civil war. Unsuccessful resistance is not only ruin to its 
authors, but is esteemed, and necessarily so, by the laws 
of all countries, treasonable. This is the case, at least till 
resistance becomes so general and formidable as to assume 
the form of regular war. But who can tell, when resist- 
ance commences, whether it will attain even to that degree 
of success? Some of those persons who signed the Declara- 
tion of Independence in 1776, described themselves as sign- 
ing it, " as with halters about their necks." If there were 
grounds for this remark in 1776, when the cause had become 
so much more general, how much greater was the hazard, 
when the battle of Bunker Hill was fought? Otis, to whose 
merits it is high time that some competent pen should do 
full and ample justice, had ceased to be active in public 
concerns; but others, who had partaken of the public coun- 
cils with him, — and among them, he, who acted a conspic- 
uous part in the business of those times, and who yet lives, 
to assert, with vigour unimpaired by years, the claims of the 
patriots of this Commonwealth to a full participation and 
an efficient agency, not only in the very earliest scenes of the 
Revolution, but in the events which preceded it, and in 
which it may be said, more than in any other particular 
occurrences, to have had its origin, — were earnestly watch- 
ing the immediate issue of the contest, but were seeing also, 
at the same time, its more remote consequences, and the 
vastness and importance of the scene which was then 
opening. 

These considerations constituted, to enlarged and liberal 
minds, the moral sublimity of the occasion ; while to the 
outward senses the movement of armies, the roar of artillery, 



38 BUNKER HILL 

the brilliancy of the reflection of a summer's sun, from the 
burnished armour of the British columns, and the flames of 
a burning town, made up a scene of extraordinary grandeur. 

Whoever considers the nature and circumstances of this 
battle will not be at all surprised, if there should appear to 
have been some degree of complaint and fault-finding among 
those engaged. It was a battle almost won, — but yet lost. 
The place was not finally defended. The pinnacle of suc- 
cess had been almost reached, not quite. The prize had 
been seized, as it were, but not holden. Out of the disap- 
pointed feelings, natural to such an occasion, some crimina- 
tion and recrimination might be expected to rise. Even the 
gallant Prescott, a man of noble, generous and magnanimous 
nature, would not willing surrender his redoubt; nor is it 
strange that he might think it possible for others to have 
given him better support. He found himself, in his little 
fortress, and on his leaving it, to pass through a gate-way 
enfiladed by the British musquetry, in a condition some- 
what like that in which Jugurtha is described by Sallust: 
" Dum sustenare suos, et prope jam adeptam victoriam ret- 
inere cupit, circumventus ab equitibus, dextra, sinistra, om- 
nibus occisis, solus inter tela hostium vitabundus erumpit." 

Properly and strictly speaking, there was no Commander- 
in-Chief in the battle. The troops from the different 
States were strangers to each other. The battle itself was 
unexpected, and may be said to have been accidental. No 
weight should be given to the opinions, engendered in such 
a state of feelings against any man's conduct; especially 
when we take into the account the entire want of disci- 
pline in the army, and of concert among its leaders, and 
when we remember that all depended on that spirit of 
enthusiasm which glowed in the breast of every soldier, 
and which led him, under the circumstances of the case, to 
look upon himself as his own commander. A very ordi- 



BUNKER HILL 39 

nary degree of candour would induce the belief, that if there 
had been grounds of complaint against any officer, at that 
time, not of a shadowy and unsubstantial nature, they would 
have been attended to and investigated. That was cer- 
tainly a jealous period. Every officer was watched, because 
it was the beginning of a civil war, and dangers were to 
be apprehended, not only from cowardice but from defection. 
If those who knew General Putnam's behaviour at that 
time, found no fault with it, the presumption is, that no 
fault could be found with it. And those, whose lips were 
silent then, when well-founded complaints would have been 
a duty, must long afterwards and after the death of the 
party, be heard not without much abatement and allowance. 



TICONDEROGA 
BENSON JOHN LOSSING 

THE road from the foot of Lake George to Fort " Ty " 
is hilly, but the varied scenery makes the ride a 
pleasant one. We crossed the outlet of the lake twice; 
first at the Upper Falls, where stands the dilapidated vil- 
lage of Alexandria, its industrial energies weighed down, I 
was told, by the narrow policy of a " lord of the manor " 
residing in London, who owns the fee of all the land and 
of the water privileges, and will not sell, or give long 
leases. The good people of the place pray for his life to be 
short and happy — a very generous supplication. From the 
high ground near the village a fine prospect opened on the 
eastward ; and suddenly, as if a curtain had been removed, 
the cultivated farms and pleasant villages of Vermont along 
the lake shore, and the blue line of the Green Mountains 
in the far distance, were spread out before us. 

The second or Lower Falls is half way between the two 
lakes, and here the thriving village of Ticonderoga is situ- 
ated. A bridge and a saw-mill were there many years before 
the Revolution ; and this is the spot where Lord Howe, at the 
head of his column, crossed the stream and pushed forward 
through the woods toward the French lines, a mile and a 
quarter beyond. We arrived at the Pavilion near the fort 
at one o'clock, dined, and with a small party set off imme- 
diately to view the interesting ruins of one of the most 
noted fortresses in America. Before noticing its present 
condition and appearance, let us glance at its past history. 

Ticonderoga is a corruption of Cheonderoga, an Iroquois 

40 




. , ■ ■- 
I ■ 



*/; 




^■«i ,i~ 




TICONDEROGA 41 

word, signifying Sounding Waters, and was applied by the 
Indians to the rushing waters of the outlet of Lake George 
at the falls. The French, who first built a fort at Crown 
Point (Fort St. Frederic), established themselves upon this 
peninsula in 1755, and the next year they began the erection 
of a strong fortress, which they called Fort Carillon. 1 The 
Indian name was generally applied to it, and by that only 
was it known from the close of the French and Indian War 
in 1763. 2 

The peninsula is elevated more than one hundred feet 
above the lake, and contains about five hundred acres. 
Nature and art made it a strong place. Water was upon 
three sides, and a deep swamp extended nearly across the 
fourth. Within a mile north of the fortress intrenchments 
were thrown up, the remains of which may still be seen at 
each side of the road, and are known as the French lines. 
The whole defences were completed by the erection of a 
breast-work nine feet high, upon the narrowest part of the 
neck between the swamp and the outlet of Lake George; 
and before the breast-work was a strong abattis. 

Here was the general rendezvous of the French under 
Montcalm, preparatory to the attack on Fort William 
Henry. It continued to be the headquarters of that general 
until Quebec was threatened by an expedition under Wolfe, 
up the St. Lawrence, when he abandoned the posts on Lake 
Champlain, and mustered all his forces at the capital of 
Lower Canada. 

Montcalm commanded a force of four thousand men at 

1 This is a French word, signifying chime, jingling, noise, bawl- 
ing, scolding, racket, clatter, riot. Its application to this spot had 
the same reference to the rush of waters as the Indian name, 
Cheonderoga. 

2 This fortress was strongly built. Its walls and barracks were 
of limestone, and everything about it was done in the most sub- 
stantial manner. 



42 TICONDEROGA 

TIconderoga when Abercrombie approached, and was in 
daily expectation of receiving a re-enforcement of three 
thousand troops under M. de Levi. The English com- 
mander was advised of this expected re-enforcement of the 
garrison, and felt the necessity of making an immediate 
attack upon the works. His army moved forward in three 
columns; but so dense was the forest that covered the whole 
country, that their progress was slow. They were also 
deficient in suitable guides, and in a short time were thrown 
into a great deal of confusion. They pressed steadily for- 
ward, and the advanced post of the French (a breast-work 
of logs) was set fire to by the enemy themselves and aban- 
doned. Lord Howe, who was Abercrombie's lieutenant, or 
second in command, led the advanced column ; and as they 
pressed onward after crossing the bridge, Major Putnam, 
with about one hundred men, advanced as a scouting party 
to reconnoitre. Lord Howe, eager to make the first attack, 
proposed to accompany Putnam, but the Major tried to dis- 
suade him, by saying, " My lord, if I am killed the loss of 
my life will be of little consequence, but the preservation 
of yours is of infinite importance to this army." The 
answer was, " Putnam, your life is as dear to you as mine 
is to me. I am determined to go." They dashed in through 
the woods, and in a few minutes fell in with the advanced 
guard of the French, who had retreated from the first 
breast-works, and without a guide and bewildered, were 
endeavouring to find their way back to the lines. A sharp 
skirmish ensued, and at the first fire Lord Howe, another 
officer, and several privates were killed. The French were 
repulsed with a loss of three hundred killed and one hun- 
dred and forty-eight taken prisoners. The English columns 
were so much broken, confused, and fatigued, that Aber- 
crombie marched them back to the landing-place on Lake 
George, to bivouac for the night. Early the next morning 



TICONDEROGA 43 

Colonel Bradstreet advanced and took possession of the 
saw-mill, near the present village of Ticonderoga, which the 
enemy had abandoned. 

Abercrombie sent an engineer to reconnoitre, and on his 
reporting that the works were unfinished and might easily 
be taken, the British troops were again put in motion toward 
the fortress. As they approached the lines, the French, who 
were completely sheltered behind their breast-works, opened 
a heavy discharge of artillery upon them, but they pressed 
steadily forward in the face of the storm, determined to 
assault the works, and endeavour to carry them by sword 
and bayonet. They found them so well defended by a deep 
abattis, that it was almost impossible to reach them; yet, 
amid the galling fire of the enemy, the English continued for 
four hours striving to cut their way through the limbs and 
bushes to the breast-works with their swords. Some did, 
indeed, mount the parapet, but in a moment they were 
slain. Scores of Britons were mowed down at every dis- 
charge of cannon. Perceiving the rapid reduction of his 
army, Abercrombie at last sounded a retreat; and, without 
being pursued by the French, the English fell back to their 
encampment at the foot of Lake George, from which the 
wounded were sent to Fort Edward and to Albany. The 
English loss was nearly two thousand men and twenty-five 
hundred stand of arms. Never did troops show bolder 
courage or more obstinate persistence against fearful obsta- 
cles. The whole army seemed emulous to excel, but the 
Scotch Highland regiment of Lord John Murray was fore- 
most in the conflict, and suffered the severest loss. One- 
half of the privates and twenty-five officers were slain on 
the spot or badly wounded. Failing in this attempt, Aber- 
crombie changed his plans. He despatched General Stan- 
wix to build a fort near the head-waters of the Mohawk, at 
the site of the present village of Rome, Oneida County. 



44 TICONDEROGA 

Colonel Bradstreet, at his own urgent solicitation, was or- 
dered, with three thousand troops, mostly provincials, to 
proceed by the way of Osewgo and Lake Ontario, to attack 
Fort Frontenac, where Kingston, in Upper Canada, now 
stands; and himself, with the rest of the army, returned to 
Albany. 

Thus skill, bravery, and activity of General Amherst, 
exhibited in the capture of Louisburg, gained him a vote 
of thanks from Parliament, and commended him to Pitt, 
who, the next year, appointed him to the chief command in 
America, in place of the less active Abercrombie. So much 
did Pitt rely upon his judgment and ability, that he clothed 
him with discretionary powers to take measures to make the 
complete conquest of all Canada in a single campaign. His 
plans were arranged upon a magnificent scale. Appreci- 
ating the services of Wolfe, one expedition was placed under 
his command, to ascend the St. Lawrence and attack Quebec. 
General Prideaux was sent with another expedition to cap- 
ture the stronghold of Niagara, while Amherst himself took 
personal command of a third expedition against the fortress 
on Lake Champlain. It was arranged for the three armies 
to form a junction as conquerors at Quebec. Prideaux, 
after capturing the fort at Niagara, was to proceed down the 
lake and St. Lawrence to attack Montreal and the posts 
below, and Amherst was to push forward after the capture 
of Ticonderoga and Crown Ponit, down the Richelieu or 
Sorel River, to the St. Lawrence, and join with Wolfe at 
Quebec. 

Amherst collected about eleven thousand men at Fort 
Edward and its vicinity, and, moving cautiously along Lake 
Champlain, crossed the outlet of Lake George, and ap- 
peared before Ticonderoga on the 26th of July. He met 
with no impediments by the way, and at once made prepara- 
tions for reducing the fortress by a regular siege. The gar- 



TICONDEROGA 45 

rison were strong, and evinced a disposition to make a vig- 
orous resistance. They soon discovered, however, that they 
had not Abercrombie to deal with, and, despairing of being 
able to hold out against the advancing English, they dis- 
mantled and abandoned the fort, and fled to Crown Point. 
Not a gun was fired or a sword crossed; and the next day 
Amherst marched in and took possession of the fort. He at 
once set about repairing and enlarging it, and also arrang- 
ing an expedition against the enemy at Crown Point, when, 
to his astonishment, he learned from his scouts that they had, 
abandoned that post also, and fled down the lake to Isle 
Aux Noix in the Richelieu or Sorel. 

The contempt with which the loyal and respectful ad- 
dresses of the first Continental Congress of 1774 were treated 
by the British ministry and a majority in Parliament; the 
harsh measures adopted by the government early in 1775, 
to coerce the colonists into submission, and the methodical 
tyranny of General Gage at Boston, and of other Colonial 
governors, convinced the Americans that an appeal to arms 
was inevitable. They were convinced, also, that the prov- 
ince of Quebec, or Canada, would remain loyal, and that 
there would be a place of rendezvous for British troops when 
the colonies should unite in open and avowed rebellion. 
The strong fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point 
formed the key of all communication between New York 
and Canada, and the vigilant patriots of Massachusetts, 
then the very hot-bed of rebellion, early perceived the ne- 
cessity of securing these post the moment hostilities should 
commence. 

Early in March, Samuel Adams and Joseph Warren, 
members of the Committee of Correspondence of Boston, 
sent a secret agent into Canada to ascertain the opinions and 
temper of the people of that province concerning the great 
questions at issue and the momentous events then pending. 



46 TICONDEROGA 

After a diligent but cautious performance of his delicate 
task, the agent sent word to them from Montreal that the 
people were, at best, lukewarm, and advised that, the mo- 
ment hostilities commenced, Ticonderoga and its garrison 
should be seized. This advice was coupled with the positive 
assertion that the people of the New Hampshire Grants 
were ready to undertake the bold enterprise. 

Within three weeks after this information was received 
by Adams and Warren, the battle of Lexington occurred. 
The event aroused the whole country, and the patriots 
flocked to the neighbourhood of Boston from all quarters. 
The Provincial Assembly of Connecticut was then in ses- 
sion, and several of its members concerted and agreed upon 
a plan to seize the munitions of war at Ticonderoga, for 
the use of the army gathering at Cambridge and Roxbury. 
They appointed Edward Mott and Noah Phelps a commit- 
tee to proceed to the frontier towns, ascertain the condition 
of the fort and the strength of the garrison, and, if they 
thought it expedient, to raise men and attempt the surprise 
and capture of the post. One thousand dollars were ad- 
vanced from the provincial treasury to pay the expenses of 
the expedition. 

The whole plan and proceedings were of a private char- 
acter, without the public sanction of the Assembly, but with 
its full knowledge and tacit approbation. Mott and Phelps 
collected sixteen men as they passed through Connecticut; 
and at Pittsfield, Massachusetts, they laid their plans before 
Colonel Easton and John Brown, who agreed to join them. 
Colonel Easton enlisted volunteers from his regiment of 
militia as he passed through the country 7 , and about forty had 
been engaged when he reached Bennington. There Colonel 
Ethan Allen, a man of strong mind, vigorous frame, upright 
in all his ways, fearless in the discharge of his duty, and a 
zealous patriot, joined the expedition with his Green Moun- 



TICONDEROGA 47 

tain Boys, and the whole party, two hundred and seventy men, 
reached Castleton, fourteen miles east of Skenesborough, or 
Whitehall, at dusk on the 7th of May. A council of war 
was immediately held, and Allen was appointed commander 
of the expedition, Colonel James Easton, second in command, 
and Seth Warner, third. It was arranged that Allen and 
the principal officers, with the main body, should march to 
Shoreham, opposite Ticonderoga ; that Captain Herrick, 
with thirty men, should push on to Skenesborough, and cap- 
ture the young Major Skene (son of the governor, who 
was then in England), confine his people, and, seizing all 
the boats they might find there, hasten to join Allen at 
Shoreham ; and that Captain Douglas should proceed to 
Panton, beyond Crown Point, and secure every boat or 
bateau that should fall in their way. 

Benedict Arnold, who joined the army about this time, 
doubtless received a hint of this expedition before he left 
New Haven, for the moment he arrived at Cambridge with 
the company of which he was captain, he presented himself 
before the Committee of Safety, and proposed a similar 
expedition in the same direction. He made the thing appear 
so feasible, that the committee eagerly accepted his proposal, 
granted him a colonel's commission, and gave him the chief 
command of troops, not exceeding four hundred in number, 
which he might raise to accompany him on an expedition 
against the lake fortresses. Not doubting his success, 
Arnold was instructed to leave a sufficient garrison at Ticon- 
deroga, and with the rest of the troops to return to Cam- 
bridge with the arms and military stores that should fall 
into his possession. He was also supplied with one hundred 
pounds in cash, two hundred pounds weight each of gun- 
powder and leaden balls, one thousand flints, and ten horses, 
by the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts. His instruc- 
tions were to raise men in Western Massachusetts, but, on 



48 TICONDEROGA 

reaching Stockbridge, he was disappointed in finding that 
another expedition had anticipated him, and was on its way 
to the lake. He remained only long enough to engage a few 
officers and men to follow him, and then hastened onward and 
joined the other expedition at Castleton. He introduced him- 
self to the officers, pulled a bit of parchment from his pocket, 
and, by virtue of what he averred was a superior commis- 
sion, as it was from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety, 
claimed the supreme command. This was objected to, for 
he came single-handed, without officers or troops; and the 
soldiers, a large portion of whom were Green Mountain 
Boys, and who were much attached to Allen, declared that 
they would shoulder their muskets and march home rather 
than serve under any other leader. Arnold made a virtue of 
necessity, and united himself to the expedition as a volun- 
teer, maintaining his rank, but having no command. 

The momentary interruption of Arnold produced no 
change in the plans, and Allen marched to the shore of the 
lake, opposite Ticonderoga, during the night. He applied 
to a farmer in Shoreham, named Beman, for a guide, who 
offered his son Nathan, a lad who passed a good deal of 
time within the fort, with the boys of the garrison, and was 
well acquainted with every secret way that led to or within 
the fortress. But a serious difficulty now occurred. They 
had but a few boats, and none had been sent from Skenes- 
borough or Panton. The day began to dawn, and only the 
officers and eighty-three men had crossed the lake. Delay 
was hazardous, for the garrison, if aroused, would make 
stout resistance. Allen, therefore, resolved not to wait for 
the rear division to cross, but to attack the fort at once. 
He drew up his men in three ranks upon the shore, directly 
in front of where the Pavilion now stands, and in a low 
but distinct tone briefly harangued them; and then, placing 
himself at their head, with Arnold by his side, they marched 



TICONDEROGA 49 

quickly but stealthily up the height to the sally port. The 
sentinel snapped his fusee at the commander, but it missed 
fire, and he retreated within the fort under a covered way. 
The Americans followed close upon his heels, and were thus 
guided by the alarmed fugitive directly to the parade within 
the barracks. There another sentinel made a thrust at 
Easton, but a blow upon the head from Allen's sword made 
him beg for quarter, and the patriots met with no further 
resistance. 

As the troops rushed into the parade under the covered 
way, they gave a tremendous shout, and, filing off into two 
divisions, formed a line of forty men each along the south- 
western and northeastern range of barracks. The aroused 
garrison leaped from their pallets, seized their arms, and 
rushed for the parade, but only to be made prisoners by the 
intrepid New Englanders. At the same moment Allen, 
with young Beman at his elbow as guide, ascended the steps 
to the door of the quarters of Captain Delaplace, the com- 
mandant of the garrison, and, giving three loud raps with 
the hilt of his sword, with a voice of peculiar power, ordered 
him to appear, or the whole garrison should be sacrificed. 
It was about four o'clock in the morning. The loud shouts 
of the invaders had awakened the captain and his wife, both 
of whom sprang to the door just as Allen made his strange 
demand. Delaplace appeared in shirt and drawers, with the 
frightened face of his pretty wife peering over his shoulder. 
He and Allen had been old friends, and, upon recognition, 
the captain assumed boldness, and, authoritatively demanded 
his disturber's errand. Allen pointed to his men and sternly 
exclaimed, " I order you instantly to surrender." " By 
what authority do you demand it?" said Delaplace. "In 
the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Con- 
gress! " thundered Allen, and, raising his sword over the 
head of the captain, who was about to speak, ordered him 



50 TICONDEROGA 

to be silent and surrender immediately. There was no 
alternative. Delaplace had about as much respect for the 
" Continental Congress " as Allen had for " Jehovah," and 
they respectively relied upon and feared powder and ball 
more than either. In fact, the Continental Congress was 
but a shadow, for it did not meet for organization until six 
hours afterward, and its " authority " was yet scarcely ac- 
knowledged even by patriots in the field. But Delaplace 
ordered his troops to parade without arms, the garrison of 
forty-eight men were surrendered prisoners of war, and, 
with the women and children, were sent to Hartford, in 
Connecticut. The spoils were one hundred and twenty 
pieces of iron cannon, fifty swivels, two ten-inch mortars, 
one howitzer, one cohorn, ten tons of musket balls, three 
cartloads of flints, thirty new carriages, a considerable quan- 
tity of shells, a warehouse full of material for boat building, 
one hundred stand of small arms, ten casks of poor powder, 
two brass cannon, thirty barrels of flour, eighteen barrels of 
pork, and some beans and peas. 

Warner crossed the lake with the rear division, and 
marched up to the fort just after the surrender was made. 
As soon as the prisoners were secured, and all had break- 
fasted, he was sent off with a detachment of men in boats to 
take Crown Point; but a strong head-wind drove them back, 
and they slept that night at Ticonderoga. Another and 
successful attempt was made on the 12th, and both fortresses 
fell into the hands of the patriots without bloodshed. 



LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
FRANCIS PARKMAN 

THIS beautiful lake owes its name to Saumel de Cham- 
plain, the founder of Quebec. In 1609, long before 
the Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plymouth, he joined a band 
of Huron and Algonquin warriors on an expedition against 
their enemies, the Iroquois, since known as the Five Na- 
tions of New York. While gratifying his own love of ad- 
venture, he expected to make important geographical dis- 
coveries. 

After a grand war-dance at the infant settlement of 
Quebec, the allies set out together. Champlain was in a 
boat, carrying, besides himself, eleven men, chief among 
whom were one Marais and a pilot named La Routte, all 
armed with the arquebuse, a species of firearm shorter than 
the musket, and therefore better fitted for the woods. 

They ascended the St. Lawrence and entered the Rich- 
elieu, which forms the outlet of Lake Champlain. Here, 
to Champlain's great disappointment, he found his farther 
progress barred by the rapids at Chambly, though the In- 
dians had assured him that his boat could pass all the way 
unobstructed. He told them that though they had deceived 
him, he would not abandon them, sent Marais with the boat 
and most of the men back to Quebec, and, with two who 
offered to follow him, prepared to go on in the Indian 
canoes. 

The warriors lifted their canoes from the water, and in 
long procession through the forest, under the flickering sun 
and shade, bore them on their shoulders around the rapids 

51 



52 LAKE CHAMPLAIN 

to the smooth stream above. Here the chiefs made a muster 
of their forces, counting twenty-four canoes and sixty war- 
riors. All embarked again, and advanced once more, by 
marsh, meadow, forest, and scattered islands, then full of 
game, for it was an uninhabited land, the warpath and 
battle-ground of hostile tribes. The warriors observed a 
certain system in their advance. Some were in front as a 
vanguard; others formed the main body; while an equal 
number were in the forests on the flanks and rear, hunting 
for the subsistence of the whole; for, though they had a 
provision of parched maize pounded into meal, they kept it 
for use when, from the vicinity of the enemy, hunting should 
become impossible. 

Still the canoes advanced, the river widening as they 
went. Great islands appeared, leagues in extent: Isle a la 
Motte, Long Island, Grande Isle. Channels where ships 
might float and broad reaches of expanding water stretched 
Between them, and Champlain entered the lake which pre- 
serves his name to posterity. Cumberland Head was passed, 
and from the opening of the great channel between Grande 
Isle and the main, he could look forth on the wilderness 
sea. Edged with woods, the tranquil flood spread south- 
ward beyond the sight. Far on the left, the forest ridges 
of the Green Mountains were heaved against the sun, 
patches of snow still glistening on their tops; and on the 
right rose the Adirondacks, haunts in these later years of 
amateur sportsmen from counting-rooms or college halls, 
nay, of adventurous beauty, with sketch-book and pencil. 
Then the Iroquois made them their hunting-ground; and 
beyond, in the valleys of the Mohawk, the Onondaga, and 
the Genesee, stretched the long line of their five cantons 
and palisaded towns. 

The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. They 
changed their mode of advance, and moved only in the 



LAKE CHAMPLAIN 53 

night. All day, they lay close in the depth of the forest, 
sleeping, lounging, smoking tobacco of their own raising, 
and beguiling the hours, no doubt, with the shallow banter 
and obscene jesting with which knots of Indians are wont 
to amuse their leisure. At twilight they embarked again, 
paddling their cautious way till the eastern sky began to 
redden. Their goal was the rocky promontory where Fort 
Ticonderoga was long afterward built. Thence, they would 
pass the outlet of Lake George, and launch their canoes 
again on that Como of the wilderness, whose waters, limpid 
as a fountain-head, stretched far southward between their 
flanking mountains. Landing at the future site of Fort 
William Henry, they would carry their canoes through the 
forest to the River Hudson, and descending it, attack, per- 
haps, some outlying town of the Mohawks. In the next 
century this chain of lakes and rivers became the grand 
highway of savage and civilized war, a bloody, debatable 
ground linked to memories of momentous conflicts. 

The allies were spared so long a progress. On the morn- 
ing of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all night, 
they hid as usual in the forest on the western shore, not far 
from Crown Point. The warriors stretched themselves to 
their slumbers, and Champlain, after walking for a time 
through the surrounding woods, returned to take his repose 
on a pile of spruce boughs. Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, 
wherein he beheld the Iroquois drowning in the lake; and, 
essaying to rescue them, he was told by his Algonquin friends 
that they were good for nothing and had better be left to 
their fate. Now, he had been daily beset, on awakening, by 
his superstitious allies, eager to learn about his dreams; and, 
to this moment, his unbroken slumbers had failed to furnish 
the desired prognostics. The announcement of this aus- 
picious vision filled the crowd with joy, and at nightfall they 
embarked, flushed with anticipated victories. 



54 LAKE CHAMPLAIN 

It was ten o'clock in the evening, when they descried 
dark objects in motion on the lake before them. These were 
a flotilla of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, 
for they were made of oak or elm bark. Each party saw 
the other, and the mirgled war-cries pealed over the dark- 
ened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, hav- 
ing no stomach for an aquatic battle, landed, and, making 
night hideous with their clamours, began to barricade them- 
selves. Champlain could see them in the woods, labouring 
like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes taken from 
the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of their 
own making. The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot 
from the hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together 
by poles lashed across. All night, they danced with as much 
vigour as the fraility of their vessels would permit, their 
throats making amends for the enforced restraint of their 
limbs. It was agreed on both sides that the fight should be 
deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce of abuse, 
sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave unceasing exercise to the 
lungs and fancy of the combatants, — " much," says Cham- 
plain, " like the besiegers and besieged in a beleagured 
town." 

As day approached, he and his two followers put on the 
light armour of the time. Champlain wore the doublet and 
long hose then in vogue. Over the doublet he buckled on 
a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, while his thighs 
were protected by cuisses of steel, and his head by a plumed 
casque. Across his shoulder hung the strap of his bando- 
leer, or ammunition-box; at his side was his sword, and in 
his hand his arquebuse, which he had loaded with four 
balls. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian- 
fighter, whose exploits date eleven years before the landing 
of the Puritans at Plymouth, and sixty-six years before 
King Philip's War. 



LAKE CHAMPLAIN 55 

Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, 
and, as it grew light, they kept themselves hidden, either by 
lying at the bottom, or covering themselves with an Indian 
robe. The canoes approached the shore, and all landed with- 
out opposition at some distance from the Iroquois, whom 
they presently could see filing out of the barricade, tall and 
strong men, some two hundred in number, of the boldest 
and fiercest warriors of North America. They advanced 
through the forest with a steadiness which excited the admir- 
ation of Champlain. Among them could be seen several 
chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore 
shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a 
kind of armour made of tough twigs interlaced with a vege- 
table fibre supposed by Champlain to be cotton. 

The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for 
their champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass 
to the front. He did so, and, advancing before his red 
companions-in-arms, stood revealed to the astonished gaze 
of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike apparition in 
their path, stared in mute amazement. But his arquebuse 
was levelled ; the report startled the woods, a chief fell dead, 
and another by his side rolled among the bushes. Then 
there arose from the allies a yell, which, says Champlain, 
would have drowned a thunder-clap, and the forest was full 
of whizzing arrows. For a moment, the Iroquois stood 
firm and sent back their arrows lustily; but when another 
and another gunshot came from the thickets on their flank, 
they broke and fled in uncontrollable terror. Swifter than 
hounds, the allies tore through the bushes in pursuit. Some 
of the Iroquois were killed; more were taken. Camp, ca- 
noes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons 
flung down in the panic flight. The arquebuse had done its 
work. The victory was complete. 

The victors made a prompt retreat from the scene of 



56 LAKE CHAMPLAIN 

their triumph. Three or four days brought them to the 
mouth of the Richelieu. Here they separated; the Hurons 
and Algonquins made for the Ottawa, their homeward 
route, each with a share of prisoners for future tor- 
ments. At parting they invited Champlain to visit their 
towns and aid them in their wars, — an invitation which this 
paladin of the woods failed not to accept. 

Thus did New France rush into collision with the re- 
doubted warriors of the Five Nations. Here was the be- 
ginning, in some measure doubtless the cause, of a long 
suite of murderous conflicts, bearing havoc and flame to 
generations yet unborn. Champlain had invaded the tiger's 
den; and now, in smothered fury, the patient savage would 
lie biding his day of blood. 



SAN FRANCISCO 
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE 

THE weather cooled perceptibly when we left the 
tropics — we met the keen north wind which blows 
almost all the year down the Western American coast. 

On April 20, we entered between the Heads into the Bay 
of San Francisco, and saw the smoke of the Golden City 
six miles in front of us. The opening is extremely striking 
— the bay itself is as large as Port Jackson. The hills are 
higher, the outlines grander. The only inferiority is in the 
absence of timber. There was grass everywhere, in the 
freshness of spring, but not a tree that we could see from 
the water; and we felt the bareness more strongly after 
New Zealand and Australia. Another difference made it- 
self felt, the effect of which it was impossible to resist. 
There had been life and energy in Melbourne and Sydney, 
with crowded docks and growing enterprise; but an Amer- 
ican city — and San Francisco especially — is more than they. 
The very pilot's voice as he came on board had a ring of 
decision about it. The great liners passing in and out with 
the stars and stripes flying; the huge ferry-boats rushing 
along, deck rising above deck, and black with passengers; 
the lines of houses on the shore, stretching leagues beyond 
the actual town, all spoke of the pulsations of a great na- 
tional existence, which were beating to its farthest extremity. 

San Francisco, half a century ago, was a sleepy Spanish 
village. It is now one of the most important cities of the 
world, destined, if things continue as they are, to expand 
into dimensions to which the present size of it is nothing, for 

57 



58 SAN FRANCISCO 

it is and must be the chief outlet into the Pacific of the 
trade of the American Continent. 

I had already seen the Eastern States, but California was 
new to me. California with its gold and its cornfields, its 
conifers and its grizzlies, its diggers and its hidalgos, its 
" heathen Chinese " and its Yankee millionaires, was a land 
of romance, the wonders of which passed belief, and it was 
with a sort of youthful excitement that I found myself 
landed at Frisco. The prosaic asserted itself there as else- 
where. There were customs' officers and a searching of 
portmanteaus. This over, we had to find our quarters. We 
were on a long platform, roofed over like a railway station, 
and within the precincts the public were not admitted. At 
the far end was a large open door, and outside a mob of 
human creatures, pushing, scrambling, and howling like the 
beasts in a menagerie at feeding time. There they were in 
hundreds, waiting to plunge upon us, and (if they did not 
tear us in pieces in the process) to carry us off to one or 
other of the rival caravanserais. Never did I hear such a 
noise, save in an Irish fair; never was I in such a scuffle. 
We had to fight for our lives, for our luggage, and for our 
dollars, if the Philistines were not to spoil us utterly. All, 
however, was at last safely and reasonably accomplished. 
We were driven away to the Palace Hotel, where the storm 
turned to calm, and my acquaintance with California and 
its ways was practically to commence. 

The Palace Hotel at San Francisco is, I believe, the 
largest in the world — the largest, but by no means the 
ugliest, as I had expected to find. It is a vast quadrilateral 
building, seven or eight stories high, but in fair proportions. 
You enter under a handsome archway, and you find yourself 
in a central court, as in the hotels at Paris, but completely 
roofed over with glass. The floor is of polished stone. Tiers 
of galleries run around it, tier above tier, and two lifts are 



SAN FRANCISCO 59 

in constant action, which deposit you on the floor to which 
you are consigned. There is no gaudiness or tinsel. The 
taste in California is generally superior to what you see in 
New York. I expected the prices of New York, or of 
Auckland or Sydney. Money was reported to flow in rivers 
there, and other things to be dear in proportion. I was 
agreeably disappointed. Our apartments — mine and my 
son's — consisted of a sitting-room au troisieme, so large that 
a bed in it was no inconvenience ; a deep alcove with another 
bed, divided off by glass doors; a dressing-room and a bath- 
room, with all the other accompaniments. Our meals were 
in the great dining-room at fixed hours, but with a liberal 
time allowance. We could order our dinners and breakfasts 
from the carte, with as large a choice and quality as excel- 
lent as one could order in the Palais Royal, if one was re- 
gardless of expense. Unnumbered niggers attended in full 
dress — white waistcoat, white neckcloth, with the conse- 
quentially deferential manners of a duke's master of the 
household; and for all this sumptuosity we were charged 
three dollars and a half each, or about fifteen shillings. 
Nowhere in Europe, nowhere else in America, can one be 
lodged and provided for on such a scale and on such terms — 
and this was California. 

Americans are very good to strangers, and the Califor- 
nians are in this respect the best of Americans. An agree- 
able and accomplished Mr. G — ■ — , who had come from 
New Zealand with us, lived in San Francisco. He was 
kind enough to take me in charge, and show me, not trees 
and rocks, but things and people. The Chinese quarter is 
to Englishmen the principal object of attraction. They go 
there at night under a guard of police, for it is lawless and 
dangerous. Had I known any of the Chinese themselves, 
who would have shown me the better side of them, I should 
have been willing to go. But I did not care to go among 



60 SAN FRANCISCO 

human beings as if they were wild beasts, and stare at opium 
orgies and gambling-hells. Parties of us did go, and they 

said they were delighted. I went with Mr. G about 

the streets. The first place I look for in a new city is the 
market. One sees the natural produce of all kinds gath- 
ered there. One sees what people buy on the spot and 
" consume on the premises," as distinct from what is raised 
for export. One learns the cost of things, and can form 
one's own estimate of the manner in which the country peo- 
ple occupy themselves, and how they are able to live. The 
market-place in San Francisco told its story in a moment. 
Vegetables and fruits, the finest that I ever saw exposed for 
sale, were at half the English prices. Meat was at half the 
English price. I lunched on oysters, plump and delicate as 
the meal-fattened Colchester natives used to be, at a cent 
(a half-penny) a piece. Salmon were lying out on the 
marble slabs, caught within two hours in the Sacramento 
River, superb as ever came from Tay or Tweed, for three 
cents a pound. 

From the market we went to the clubs, where the men 
would be found who were carrying on the business of this 
late-born but immense emporium — bankers, merchants, pol- 
iticians. The Eastern question, the Egyptian business, etc., 
were discussed in the cool, incisive American manner, and 
the opinions expressed were not favourable to our existing 
methods of administration. How we had come to fall into 
such a state of distraction seemed to be understood with 
some distinctness, but less distinctly how we were to get out 
of it. In the Bohemian Club the tone was lighter and 
brighter. We do not live for politics alone, nor for busi- 
ness alone. The Bohemian Club was founded, I believe, by 
Bret Harte, and is composed of lawyers, artists, poets, mu- 
sicians, men of genius, who in the sunshine and exuberant 
fertility of California, were brighter, quicker, and less bit- 



SAN FRANCISCO 6l 

terly in earnest than their severe fellow-countrymen of the 
Eastern States. It was the American temperament, but 
with a difference. Dollars, perhaps, are easily come by in 
that happy country, and men think less of them, and more 
of human life, and how it can best be spent and enjoyed. 
If Horace were brought to life again in the New World, 
he would look for a farm in California and be a leading 
Bohemian. The pictures in the drawing-room, painted by 
one or other of themselves, had all something new and orig- 
inal about them, reminding one of Harte's writings. In 
the summer weather the club takes to tents, migrates to the 
forest, and holds high-jinks in Dionysic fashion. There was 
a clever sketch of one of these festivals in the abandonment 
of intellectual riot. It is likely enough that some original 
school of American art may start up in California. Their 
presiding genius at the club is Pallas Athene in the shape 
of an owl; but, for some reason which they could not, or 
would not explain to me, she has one eye shut. 

The city generally is like other American cities. It has 
grown like a mushroom, and there has been no leisure to 
build anything durable or beautiful. A few years ago the 
houses were mainly of wood. The footways in the streets 
are laid with boards still, but are gradually transforming 
themselves. The sense of beauty will come by-and-by, and 
they do well not to be in a hurry. The millionaires have 
constructed palatial residences for themselves, on the high 
grounds above the smoke. The country towards the ocean 
is taken charge of by the municipality. A fine park has been 
laid out, with forcing houses and gardens and carriage- 
drives. Near it is a cemetery, beside which ours at Brompton 
would look vulgar and hideous. Let me say here, that no- 
where in America have I met with vulgarity in its proper 
sense. Vulgarity lies in manners unsuited to the condition 
of life to which you belong. A lady is vulgar when she has 



62 SAN FRANCISCO 

the manners of a kitchen-maid, the kitchen-maid is vulgar 
when she affects the manners of a lady. Neither is vulgar 
so long as she is contented to be herself. In America there 
is no difference of " station," and therefore every one is 
satisfied with his own and has no occasion to affect any- 
thing. There is a dislike of makeshifts in the Californians. 
Greenbacks and shin-plasters have no currency among them. 
If you go to a bank at San Francisco, they give you, instead 
of dirty paper, massive gold twenty-dollar pieces, large and 
heavy as medals, and so handsome that one is unwilling to 
break them. They are never in haste, and there is a com- 
posure about them which seems to say that they belong to a 
great nation and that their position is assured. I observed 
at San Francisco, and I have observed elsewhere in America, 
that they have not the sporting taste so universal in Eng- 
land. They shoot their bears, they shoot their deer, in the 
way of business, as they make their pigs into bacon ; but they 
can see a strange bird or a strange animal without wishing 
immediately to kill it. Indeed, killing for its own sake, or 
even killing for purpose of idle ornament, does not seem to 
give them particular pleasure. The great harbour swarms 
with seals; you see them lifting their black faces to stare at 
the passing steamers, as if they knew they were in no dan- 
ger of being molested. There is a rock in the ocean close 
to the shore, seven miles from the city. The seals lie about 
it in hundreds, and roll and bark and take life pleasantly 
as the crowds who gather on holidays to look at them. No 
one ever shoots at these harmless creatures. Men and seals 
can live at peace side by side in California. I doubt if as 
much could be said of any British possession in the world. 
Perhaps killing is an aristocratic instinct, which the rest 
imitate, and democracy may by-and-by make a difference. 

In short, California is a pleasant country, with good 
people in it. If one had to live one's life over again, one 



SAN FRANCISCO 63 

might do worse than make one's home there. For a poor 
man it is better than even Victoria and New South Wales, 
for not the necessaries of life only are cheap there, but the 
best of its luxuries. The grapes are like the clusters of 
Eschal. The wine, already palatable, is on the way to 
becoming admirable and as accessible to a light purse as it 
used to be in Spain. I ate there the only really good 
oranges which I have tasted for many years — good as those 
which we used to get before the orange-growers went in for 
average sorts and heavy bearers, and the greatest happiness 
of the greatest number. 

When everything of every sort that one meets with, even 
down to the nigger waiter at the hotel, is excellent in its 
kind, one may feel pretty well satisfied that the morality, 
etc., is in good condition also. All our worst vices now-a- 
days grow out of humbug. 

This was the impression which California left on me 
during my brief passage through it. Had I stayed longer, 
I should, of course, have found much to add of a less pleas- 
ant kind, and something to correct. Life everywhere is 
like tapestry-work — the outside only is meant to be seen, 
the loose tags and ends of thread are left hanging on the 
inner face. I describe it as it looked to me, and I was 
sorry when the time came for me to be again on the move. 



THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 
FATHER ANDREW WHITE 

AT length, sailing from this, we reached what they call 
Point Comfort, in Virginia, on the 27th of February, 
full of fear lest the English inhabitants, to whom our plan- 
tation is very objectionable, should plot some evil against 
us. Letters, however, which we brought from the King 
and the Chancellor of the Exchequer to the Governor of 
these regions, served to conciliate their minds, and to obtain 
those things which were useful to us. For the Governor 
of Virginia hoped, by this kindness to us, to recover the 
more easily from the royal treasury a great amount of money 
due to him. They announced only a vague rumor, that six 
ships were approaching, which would reduce all things 
under the power of the Spanish. For this reason all the in- 
habitants were under arms. The thing afterwards proved 
to be in a measure true. 

After a kind entertainment for eight or nine days, 
making sail on the 3d of March, and carried into the Ches- 
apeake Bay, we bent our course to the north, that we 
might reach the Potomac River. The Chesapeake Bay, ten 
leagues broad, and four, five, six, and even seven fathoms 
deep, flows gently between its shores; it abounds in fish 
when the season of the year is favourable. A more beautiful 
body of water you can scarcely find. It is inferior, how- 
ever, to the Potomac, to which we gave the name of St. 
Gregory. 

Having now arrived at the wished-for country, we ap- 
pointed names as occasion served. And, indeed, the point 

64 





* 6 




THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 65 

which is at the south we consecrated under the title of St. 
Gregory; designating the northern point, we consecrated it 
to St. Michael, in honour of all the angels. A larger or 
more beautiful river I have never seen. The Thames, com- 
pared with it, can scarcely be considered a rivulet. It is 
not rendered impure by marshes, but on each bank of solid 
earth rise beautiful groves of trees, not choked up with an 
undergrowth of brambles and bushes, but as if laid out by 
the hand, in a manner so open that you might freely drive 
a four-horse chariot in the midst of the trees. 

At the very mouth of the river we beheld the natives 
armed. That night fires were kindled through the whole 
region, and since so large a ship had never been seen 
by them, messengers were sent everywhere to announce 
" that a canoe as large as an island had brought as many 
men as there was trees in the woods." We proceeded, 
however, to the Heron islands, so-called from the immense 
flock of birds of this kind. 

The first which presented itself we called by the name 
of St. Clement's, the second St. Catherine's, the third St. 
Cecilia's. We landed first at St. Clement's, to which access 
is difficult, except by fording, because of the shelving nature 
of the shore. Here the young women, who had landed for 
the purpose of washing, were nearly drowned by the upset- 
ting of the boat — a great portion of my linen being lost — 
no trifling misfortune in these parts. 

This island abounds in cedar, sassafras, and the herbs 
and flowers for making salads of every kind, with the nut 
of a wild tree which bears a very hard nut, in a thick shell, 
with a kernel very small, but remarkably pleasant. How- 
ever, since it was only four hundred acres in extent, it did 
not appear to be a sufficiently large location for a new 
settlement. Nevertheless, a place was sought for building 
a fort to prohibit foreigners from the trade of the river, and 



66 THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 

to protect our boundaries, for that is the narrowest crossing 
of the river. 

On the day of the Annunciation of the Holy Virgin Mary, 
on the 25th of March, in the year 1634, we offered on this 
island for the first time, the sacrifice of the mass; in this 
region of the world it had never been celebrated before. 
Sacrifice being ended, having taken upon our shoulders the 
great cross which we had hewn from a tree, and going in 
procession to the place that had been designated, the Gov- 
ernor, commissioners, and other Catholics participating in 
the ceremony, we erected it as a trophy to Christ the Sav- 
iour, while the litany of the holy cross was chanted humbly 
on the bended knees, with great emotion of soul. 

But when the Governor had understood that many 
sachems are subject to the chieftain of Piscataway, he re- 
solved to visit him, that the cause of our coming being 
explained, and his good will being conciliated, a more easy 
access might be gained to the minds of the others. There- 
fore, having added another pinnace to ours which he had 
bought in Virginia, and having left the ship at anchor at 
St. Clement's, retracing his course, he landed at the south 
side of the river. And when he had found out that the 
savages had fled into the interior, he proceeded to a village 
which is also called Potomac, a name derived from the 
river. Here the tutor (guardian) of the King, who is a 
youth, is Archihu, his uncle, and holds the government of 
the kingdom — a grave man and prudent. 

To Father John Altham, who had come as the companion 
of the Governor (but he left me with the baggage), he 
willingly gave ear while explaining, through an interpreter, 
certain things concerning the errors of the heathens, now 
and then acknowledging his own ; and when informed that 
we had not come thither for the purpose of war, but for 
the sake of benevolence, that we might imbue a rude race 



THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 67 

with the precepts of civilization, and open up a way to 
heaven, as well as to impart to them the advantages of re- 
mote regions, he signified that we had come acceptably. The 
interpreter was one of the Protestants of Virginia. There- 
fore, when the father could not discuss matters further for 
want of time, he promised that he would return before long. 
"This is agreeable to my mind," said Archihu; "we will 
use one table; my attendants shall go hunt for you, and 
all things shall be common with us." 

From this we went to Piscataway, where all flew to 
arms. About five hundred men, equipped with bows, stood 
on shore with their chieftain. Signs of peace being given 
them, the chief, laying aside his apprehensions, came on 
board the pinnace, and having understood the intentions 
of our minds to be benevolent, he gave us permission to set- 
tle in whatever part of his empire we might wish. 

In the meantime, while the Governor was on his visit to 
the chieftain, the savages at St. Clement's, having grown 
more bold, mingled familiarly with our guards, for we kept 
guard day and night, both that we might protect our wood- 
cutters as well as the brigantine which, with boards and 
beams we were constructing as a refuge from sudden attacks. 
It was amusing to hear them admiring everything. In the 
first place, where in all the earth did so large a tree grow, 
from which so immense a mass of a ship could be hewn? 
for they conceived it cut from the single trunk of a tree, 
in the manner of a canoe. Our cannon struck them all 
with consternation, as they were much louder than their 
twanging bows, and loud as thunder. 

The Governor had taken as companion on his visit to 
the chieftain, Captain Henry Fleet, a resident of Virginia, 
a man very much beloved by the savages, and acquainted 
with their language and settlements. At the first he was 
very friendly to us; afterwards, seduced by the evil counsels 



68 THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 

of a certain Claiborne, who entertained the most hostile 
disposition, he stirred up the minds of the natives against us 
with all the art of which he was master. In the meantime, 
however, while he remained as a friend among us, he pointed 
out to the Governor a place for settlement, such that Europe 
cannot show a better for agreeableness of situation. 

From St. Clement's, having proceeded about nine leagues 
towards the north, we entered the mouth of a river, to 
which we gave the name of St. George. This river, in a 
course from south to north, runs about twenty miles before 
it is freed from its salt taste — not unlike the Thames. Two 
bays appeared at its mouth, capable of containing three hun- 
dred ships of the largest class. One of the bays we consecrated 
to St. George; the other bay, more inland, to the Blessed Vir- 
gin Mary. The left bank of the river was the residence of 
King Yoacomico. We landed on the right, and having 
advanced about a thousand paces from the shore, we gave 
the name of St. Mary's to the intended city; that we might 
avoid all appearance of injury and hostility, having paid in 
exchange axes, hatchets, hoes, and some yards of cloth, we 
bought from the King thirty miles of his territory, which 
part now goes by the name of Augusta Carolina. 

The Susquehannoes, a tribe accustomed to wars, and par- 
ticularly troublesome to King Yoacomico, in frequent incur- 
sions devastate all his land, and compel the inhabitants, 
through fear of danger, to seek other habitations. This is 
the reason why so readily we obtained a part of his king- 
dom. God, by these miracles, opened a way for his law 
and for eternal life. Some emigrate, and others are daily 
relinquishing to us their houses, lands, and fallowfields. 
Truly this is like a miracle, that savage men, a few days 
before arrayed in arms against us, so readily trust them- 
selves like lambs to us, and surrender themselves and their 
property to us. The finger of God is in this; and some 



THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 69 

great good God designs to this people. Some few have 
granted to them the privilege of remaining with us till the 
next year. But then the ground is to be given up to us, 
unencumbered. 

The natives are of tall and comely stature, of a skin by 
nature somewhat tawny, which they make more hideous 
by daubing, for the most part, with red paint mixed with 
oil, to keep away the mosquitoes; in this, intent more on 
their comfort than their beauty. They smear their faces 
also with other colours; from the nose upwards, sea-green, 
downwards, reddish, or the contrary, in a manner truly 
disgusting and terrific. And since they are without beard 
almost to the end of life, they make the representation of 
beard with paint, a line of various colours being drawn from 
the tip of the lips to the ears. They encourage the growth 
of the hair, which is generally black, and bind it with a fillet 
when brought round in a fashionable style to the left ear, 
something which is held in estimation by them, being added 
by way of ornament. Some bear upon their forehead the 
representation of a fish in copper. They encircle their 
necks with glass beads strung upon a thread, after the man- 
ner of chains. These beads, however, begin to be more 
common with them, and less useful for traffic. 

Ignorance of their language renders it still doubtful for 
me to state what views they entertain concerning religion ; 
but we trust less to Protestant interpreters. These few 
things we have learned at different times. They recognize 
one God of heaven, whom they call " Our God "; never- 
theless, they pay him no external worship, but by every 
means in their power, endeavour to appease a certain evil 
spirit which they call Okee, that he may not hurt them. 
They worship corn and fire, as I am informed, as Gods 
wonderfully beneficent to the human race. 

We have been here only one month, and so other things 



JO THE CHESAPEAKE BAY 

must be reserved for the next sail. This I can say, that the 
soil appears particularly fertile, and strawberries, vines, 
sassafras, hickory nuts, and walnuts, we tread upon every- 
where, in the thickest woods. The soil is dark and soft, a 
foot in thickness, and rests upon a rich and red clay. 
Everywhere there are very high trees, except where the 
ground is tilled by a scanty population. An abundance of 
springs afford water. No animals are seen except deer, 
the beaver, and squirrels, w r hich are as large as the hares 
of Europe. There is an infinite number of birds of various 
colours, as eagles, herons, swans, geese, and partridges. 
From which you may infer that there is not wanting to 
the region whatever may serve for commerce or pleasure. 



MEXICO 

HERNANDO CORTES 

BEFORE I begin to describe this great city, it may be well 
for the better understanding of the subject to say some- 
thing of the configuration of Mexico, in which it is situated, 
it being the principal seat of Montezuma's power. This 
province is in the form of a circle, surrounded on all sides by 
lofty and rugged mountains; its level surface comprises an 
area of about seventy leagues in circumference, including two 
lakes, that overspread nearly the whole valley, being navi- 
gated by boats more than fifty leagues round. One of these 
lakes contains fresh, and the other, which is the larger of 
the two, salt water. On one side of the lakes, in the middle 
of the valley, a range of highlands divides them from one 
another, with the exception of a narrow strait which lies 
between the highlands and the lofty sierras. This strait 
is a bow-shot wide, and connects the two lakes; and by 
this means a trade is carried on between the cities and other 
settlements on the lakes in canoes without the necessity 
of travelling by land. As the salt lake rises and falls 
with its tides like the sea, during the time of high water 
it pours into the other lake with the rapidity of a power- 
ful stream ; and on the other hand, when the tide has ebbed, 
the water runs from the fresh into the salt lake. 

This great city of Temixtitan (Mexico) is situated on 
this salt lake, and from the mainland to the denser parts 
of it, by whichever route one chooses to enter, the distance 
is two leagues. There are four avenues or entrances to 
the city, all of which are formed by artificial causeways, 

7i 



J2 MEXICO 

two spears' length in width. The city is as large as Seville 
or Cordova; its streets, I speak of the principal ones, are 
very wide and straight; some of these, and all the inferior 
ones, are half land and half water, and are navigated by 
canoes. All the streets at intervals have openings, through 
which the water flows, crossing from one street to another; 
and at these openings, some of which are very wide, there 
are also very wide bridges, composed of large pieces of tim- 
ber of great strength and well put together; on many of 
these bridges ten horses can go abreast. 

This city has many public squares, in which are situ- 
ated the markets and other places for buying and selling. 
There is one square twice as large as that of the city of 
Salamanca, surrounded by porticoes, where are daily assem- 
bled more than sixty thousand souls, engaged in buying and 
selling; and where are found all kinds of merchandise that 
the world affords, embracing the necessaries of life, as for 
instance, articles of food, as well as jewels of gold and sil- 
ver, lead, brass, copper, tin, precious stones, bones, shells, 
snails, and feathers. There are also exposed for sale wrought 
and unwrought stone, bricks burnt and unburnt, timber hewn 
and unhewn, of different sorts. This is a street for game, 
where every variety of birds found in the country are sold, 
as fowls, partridges, quails, wild ducks, fly-catchers, wid- 
geons, turtle-doves, pidgeons, reedbirds, parrots, sparrows, 
eagles, hawks, owls, and kestrels; they sell likewise the 
skins of some birds of prey, with their feathers, head, beak, 
and claws. There are also sold rabbits, hares, deer, and 
little dogs, which are raised for eating and castrated. There 
is also an herb street, where may be obtained all sorts of 
roots and medicinal herbs that the country affords. There 
are apothecaries' shops, where prepared medicines, liquids, 
ointments, and plasters are sold; barbers' shops, where they 
wash and shave the head; and restaurateurs, that furnish 



MEXICO 73 

food and drink at a certain price. There is also a class 
of men like those called in Castile porters, for carrying 
burthens. Wood and coal are seen in abundance, and bra- 
siers of earthenware for burning coals; mats of various kinds 
for beds, others of a lighter sort for seats, and for halls and 
bedrooms. There are all kinds of green vegetables, espe- 
cially onions, leeks, garlic, watercresses, nasturtium, borage, 
sorel, artichokes, and golden thistle; fruits also of numerous 
descriptions, amongst which are cherries and plums, similar 
to those in Spain ; honey and wax from bees, and from the 
stalks of maize, which are as sweet as the sugar-cane; honey 
is also extracted from the plant called maguey, 1 which is 
superior to sweet or new wine; from the same plant they 
extract sugar and wine, which they also sell. Different 
kinds of cotton thread of all colours in skeins are exposed 
for sale in one quarter of the market, which has the appear- 
ance of the silk-market at Granada, although the former is 
supplied more abundantly. Painters' colours, as numerous 
as can be found in Spain, and as fine shades; deerskins, 
dressed and undressed, dyed different colours; earthenware 
of a large size and excellent quality; large and small jars, 
jugs, pots, bricks, and an endless variety of vessels, all made 
of fine clay, and all or most of them glazed or painted ; 
maize, or Indian corn, in the grain and in the form of bread, 
preferred in the grain for its flavour to that of the other 
islands and terra-firma; pates of birds and fish; great quan- 
tities of fish, fresh, salt, cooked and uncooked ; the eggs of 
hens, geese, and of all the other birds I have mentioned, in 
great abundance, and cakes made of eggs ; finally, everything 
that can be found throughout the whole country is sold in 
the markets, comprising articles so numerous that to avoid 
prolixity, and because their names are not retained in my 
memory, or are unknown to me, I shall not attempt to 
enumerate them. Every kind of merchandise is sold in a 

1 The plant known as the " Century Plant." 



74 MEXICO 

particular street or quarter assigned to it exclusively, and 
thus the best order is preserved. 

They sell everything by number or measure; at least 
so far we have not observed them to sell anything by weight. 
There is a building in the great square that is used as an 
audience house, where ten or twelve persons, who are magis- 
trates, sit and decide all controversies that arise in the 
market, and order delinquents to be punished. In the same 
square there are other persons who go constantly about 
among the people observing what is sold, and the measures 
used in selling; and they have been seen to break meas- 
ures that were not true. 

This great city contains a large number of temples, or 
houses for their idols, very handsome edifices, which are 
situated in the different districts and the suburbs; in the 
principal ones religious persons of each particular sect are 
constantly residing, for whose use beside the houses con- 
taining the idols there are other convenient habitations. 

Among these temples there is one which far surpasses all 
the rest, whose grandeur of architectural details no human 
tongue is able to describe; for within its precincts, sur- 
rounded by a lofty wall, there is room enough for a town 
of five hundred families. Around the interior of this en- 
closure there are handsome edifices, containing large halls 
and corridors, in which the religious persons attached to 
the temple reside. There are full forty towers, which are 
lofty and well built, the largest of which has fifty steps 
leading to its main body, and is higher than the tower of 
the principal church at Seville. The stone and wood of 
which they are constructed are so well wrought in every 
part, that nothing could be better done, for the interior of 
the chapels containing the idols consists of curious imagery, 
wrought in stone, with plaster ceilings, and wood-work 
carved in relief, and painted with figures of monsters and 



MEXICO 75 

other objects. All these towers are the burial places of the 
nobles, and every chapel in them is dedicated to a particu- 
lar idol, to which they pay their devotions. 

There are three halls in this grand temple, which con- 
tain the principal idols ; these are of wonderful extent and 
height, and admirable workmanship, adorned with figures 
sculptured in stone and wood ; leading from the halls and 
chapels with very small doors, to which the light is not ad- 
mitted, nor are any persons except the priests, and not all 
of them. In these chapels are the images or idols, although, 
as I have before said, many of them are also found on the 
outside; the principal ones, in which the people have greatest 
faith and confidence, I precipitated from their pedestals, 
and cast them down the steps of the temple, purifying the 
chapels in which they had stood, as they were all polluted 
with human blood, shed in the sacrifices. In the place of 
these I put images of Our Lady and the Saints, which ex- 
cited not a little feeling in Montezuma and the inhabitants, 
who at first remonstrated, declaring that if my proceedings 
were known throughout the country, the people would rise 
against me; for they believed that their idols bestowed on 
them all temporal good, and if they permitted them to be 
ill-treated, they would be angry and withhold their gifts, 
and by this means the people would be deprived of the fruits 
of the earth and perish with famine. 

This noble city contains many fine and magnificent 
houses; which may be accounted for from the fact that all 
the nobility of the country, who are vassals of Montezuma, 
have houses in the city, in which they reside a certain part 
of the year; and besides, there are numerous wealthy citi- 
zens who also possess fine houses. All these persons, in 
addition to the large and spacious apartments for ordinary 
purposes, have others, both upper and lower, that contain 
conservatories of flowers. Along one of the causeways that 



j6 MEXICO 

lead into the city are laid two pipes, constructed of masonry, 
each of which is two paces in width and about five feet 
in height. An abundant supply of excellent water, forming 
a volume equal in bulk to the human body, is conveyed by 
one of these pipes, and distributed about the city, where it 
is used by the inhabitants for drinking and other purposes. 

The inhabitants of this city pay a greater regard to style 
in their mode of living, and are more attentive to elegance 
of dress and politeness of manners, than those of the other 
provinces and cities; since, as the Cacique Montezuma has 
his residence in the capital, and all the nobility, his vassals, 
are in the constant habit of meeting there, a general cour- 
tesy of demeanour necessarily prevails. But not to be 
prolix in describing what relates to the affairs of this great 
city, although it is with difficulty I refrain from proceed- 
ing, I will say no more than that the manners of the people, 
as shown in their intercourse with one another, are marked 
by as great an attention to the proprieties of life as in 
Spain, and good order is equally well observed; and consid- 
ering that they are a barbarous people, without the knowl- 
edge of God, having no intercourse with civilized nations, 
these traits of character are worthy of admiration. 

In regard to the domestic appointments of Montezuma, 
and the wonderful grandeur and state that he maintains, 
there is so much to be told, that I assure your highness, I 
know not where to begin my relation, so as to be able to 
finish any part of it. For, as I have already stated, what 
can be more wonderful, than that a barbarous monarch, as 
he is, should have every object found in his dominion imi- 
tated in gold, silver, precious stones, and feathers; the gold 
and silver being wrought so naturally as not to be surpassed 
by any smith in the world ; the stone work executed with 
such perfection that it is difficult to conceive what instru- 
ments could have been used ; and the feather work superior 



MEXICO yy 

to the finest productions in wax or embroidery. The ex- 
tent of Montezuma's dominions has not been ascertained, 
since to whatever point he despatches his messengers, even 
two hundred leagues from his capital, his commands were 
obeyed, although some of his provinces were in the midst of 
countries with which he was at war. But as nearly as I 
have been able to learn, his territories are equal in extent to 
Spain itself, for he has sent messengers to the inhabitants 
of a city called Cumatan (requiring them to become subjects 
of your Majesty), which is sixty leagues beyond that part 
of Putunchan watered by the river Grijalva, and two hun- 
dred and thirty leagues distant from the great city; and I 
sent some of our people a distance of one hundred and fifty 
leagues in the same direction. All the principal chiefs of 
these provinces, especially those in the vicinity of the capital, 
reside, as I have already stated, the greater part of the year 
in that great city, and all or most of them have their oldest 
sons in the service of Montezuma. There are fortified 
places in all the provinces, garrisoned with his own men, 
where are also stationed his governors and collectors of the 
rents and tribute, rendered him by every province; and an 
account is kept of what each is obliged to pay, as they have 
characters and figures made on paper that are used for this 
purpose. Each province renders a tribute of its own pecu- 
liar productions, so that the sovereign receives a great variety 
of articles from different quarters. No prince was ever 
more feared by his subjects, both in his presence and ab- 
sence. He possessed out of the city as well as within, 
numerous villas, each of which had its peculiar sources of 
amusements, and all were constructed in the best possible 
manner for the use of a great prince and lord. Within the 
city his palaces were so wonderful that it is hardly possible 
to describe their beauty and extent; I can only say that in 
Spain there is nothing equal to them. 



ST. AUGUSTINE 
GEORGE R. FAIRBANKS 

A MONG the sturdy adventurers of the Sixteenth Cen- 
■*■ *-tury who sought both fame and fortune in the path of 
discovery, was Ponce de Leon, a companion of Columbus 
on his second voyage, a veteran and bold mariner, who, 
after a long and adventurous life, feeling the infirmities of 
age and the shadows of the decline of life hanging over 
him, willingly credited the tale that in this, the beautiful 
land of his imagination, there existed a fountain whose 
waters could restore youth to palsied age, and beauty to 
efface the marks of time. 

The story ran that far to the north there existed a land 
abounding in gold and in all manner of desirable things, 
but, above all, possessing a river and springs of so remark- 
able a virtue that their waters would confer immortal youth 
on whoever bathed in them; that upon a time, a con- 
siderable expedition of the Indians of Cuba had departed 
northward, in search of this beautiful country and these 
waters of immortality, who had never returned, and who, 
it was supposed, were in a renovated state, still enjoying the 
felicities of the happy land. 

Furthermore, Peter Martyr affirms, in his second decade, 
addressed to the Pope, " that among the islands on the 
north side of Hispaniola, there is one about three hundred 
and twenty-five leagues distant, as they say which have 
searched the same, in the which is a continual spring of 
running water, of such marvellous virtue that the water 
thereof being drunk, perhaps with some diet, maketh old 

78 



ST. AUGUSTINE 79 

men young again. And here I must make protestation to 
your Holiness not to think this to be said lightly, or rashly; 
for they have so spread this rumour for a truth throughout 
all the Court, that not only all the people, but also many 
of them whom wisdom or fortune hath divided from the 
common sort, think it to be true." Thoroughly believing 
in the verity of this pleasant account, this gallant cavalier 
fitted out an expedition from Porto Rico, and in the prog- 
ress of his search came upon the coast of Florida, on Easter 
Monday, 15 12, supposing then, and for a long period after- 
wards, that it was an island. Partly in consequence of the 
bright spring verdure and flowery plains that met his eye, 
and the magnificence of the magnolia, the bay, and the 
laurel, and partly in honour of the day, Pascua Florida, or 
Palm Sunday, and reminded, probably, of its appropriate- 
ness by the profusion of the cabbage palms near the point 
of his landing, he gave to the country the name of Florida. 

On the third of April, 161 2, he landed a few miles north 
of St. Augustine, and took possession of the country for the 
Spanish Crown. He found the natives fierce and implaca- 
ble; and after exploring the country for some distance around, 
and trying the virtue of all the streams, and growing neither 
younger nor handsomer, he left the country without making a 
permanent settlement. 

The settlement of Florida had its origin in the religious 
troubles experienced by the Huguenots under Charles IX. 
in France. 

Their distinguished leader, Admiral Coligny, as early as 
1555, projected colonies in America, and sent an expedition 
to Brazil, which proved unsuccessful. Having procured 
permission from Charles IX. to found a colony in Florida, 
a designation which embraced in rather an indefinite man- 
ner the whole country from the Chesapeake to the Tortugas, 
he sent an expedition in 1562 from France, under com- 



80 ST. AUGUSTINE 

mand of Jean Ribault, composed of many young men of 
good family. They first landed at the St. John's River, 
where they erected a monument, but finally established a 
settlement at Port Royal, South Carolina, and erected a 
fort. After some months, however, in consequence of dis- 
sensions among the officers of the garrison, and difficulties 
with the Indians, this settlement was abandoned. 

In 1564 another expedition came out under the com- 
mand of Rene de Laudonniere, and made their first landing 
at the River of Dolphins, being the present harbour of St. 
Augustine, and so named by them in consequence of the 
great number of dolphins (porpoises) seen by them at its 
mouth. They afterwards coasted to the north, and entered 
the River St. John's, called by them the River May. 

Upon an examination of this river Laudonniere concluded 
to establish his colony on its banks; and proceeding about two 
leagues above its mouth, built a fort upon a pleasant hill 
of " mean height " which, in honour of his sovereign, he 
named Fort Caroline. 

The colonists after a few months were reduced to great 
distress, and were about taking measures to abandon the 
country a second time, when Ribault arrived with reinforce- 
ments. 

It is supposed that intelligence of these expeditions was 
communicated by the enemies of Coligny to the court of 
Spain. 

Jealousy of the aggrandizement of the French in the 
New World, mortification for their own unsuccessful efforts 
in that quarter, and a still stronger motive of hatred to the 
faith of the Huguenot, induced the bigoted Philip II. of 
Spain to despatch Pedro Menendez de Aviles, a brave, big- 
oted, and remorseless soldier, to drive out the French colony 
and take possession of the country for himself. 

The compact made between the King and Menendez 



ST. AUGUSTINE 81 

was that he should furnish one galleon completely equipped, 
and provisions for a force of six hundred men ; that he 
should conquer and settle the country. He obligated him- 
self to carry one hundred horses, two hundred horned cat- 
tle, four hundred hogs, four hundred sheep and some goats, 
and five hundred slaves (for which he had a permission free 
of duties), the third part of which should be men, for his 
own service and that of those who went with him, to aid 
in cultivating the land and building. That he should take 
twelve priests, and four fathers of the Jesuit order. He 
was to build two or three towns of one hundred families, 
and in each town should build a fort according to the nature 
of the country. He was to have the title of Adelantado of 
the country, as also to be entitled to a Marquis and his 
heirs after him, to have a tract of land, receive a salary of 
2000 ducats, a percentage of the royal duties, and have the 
freedom of all the other ports of New Spain. 

His force consisted, at starting, of eleven sail of vessels 
with two thousand and six hundred men; but, owing to 
storms and accidents, not more than one-half arrived. He 
came upon the coast on the 28th of August, 1565, shortly 
after the arrival of the fleet of Ribault. On the 7th day of 
September, Menendez cast anchor in the River of Dolphins, 
the harbour of St. Augustine. He had previously discov- 
ered and given chase to some vessels of Ribault, off the 
mouth of the River May. The Indian village Selooe then 
stood upon the site of St. Augustine, and the landing of 
Menendez was upon the spot where the city of St. Augus- 
tine now stands. 

Fray Francisco Lopez de Mendoza, the Chaplain of the 
expedition, thus chronicles the disembarkation and atten- 
dant ceremonies: 

" On Saturday the 8th day of September, the day of 
the nativity of our Lady, the General disembarked, with 



82 ST. AUGUSTINE 

numerous banners displayed, trumpets and other martial 
music resounding, and amid salvos of artillery. 

" Carrying a cross, I proceeded at the head, chanting 
the hymn Te Deum Laudamus. The General marched 
straight to the cross, together with all those who accom- 
panied him; and, kneeling, they all kissed the cross. A 
great number of Indians looked upon these ceremonies, and 
imitated whatever they saw done. Thereupon the General 
took possession of the country in the name of his Majesty. 
All the officers then took an oath of allegiance to him as 
their general and as adelantado of the whole country." 

The name of St. Augustine was given, in the usual man- 
ner of the early voyagers, because they had arrived upon 
the coast on the day dedicated in their calendar to that 
eminent saint of the primitive church, revered alike by the 
good of all ages for his learning and piety. 

On the ioth day of July, in the year 1821, the standard of 
Spain, which had been raised two hundred and fifty-six years 
before over St. Augustine, was finally lowered forever from 
the walls over which it had so long fluttered, and the Stars 
and Stripes of the youngest of nations rose where sooner or 
later the hand of destiny would assuredly have placed them. 

It was intended that the change of flags should have taken 
place on the 4th of July; owing to a detention this was 
frustrated, but the inhabitants celebrated the 4th with a 
handsome public ball at the governor's house. 

The Spanish garrison and officers connected with it, re- 
turned to Cuba and some of the Spanish families, but the 
larger portion of the inhabitants remained. 

In December, 1835, the war with the Seminole Indians 
broke out; and for some years St. Augustine was full of 
the pomp and circumstance of war. It was dangerous to 
venture beyond the gates; and many sad scenes of Indian 
massacre took place in the neighbourhood of the city. Dur- 



ST. AUGUSTINE 83 

ing this period, great apparent prosperity prevailed ; property 
was valuable, rents were high ; speculators projected one 
city on the north of the town, and another on the west; a 
canal to the St. Johns, and also a railroad to Picolata; and 
great hopes of future prosperity were entertained. With 
the cessation of the war, the importance of St. Augustine 
diminished; younger communities took the lead of it, aided 
by superior advantages of location, and greater enterprise, 
and St. Augustine has subsided into the pleasant, quiet, 
dolce far niente of to-day, living upon its old memories, con- 
tented, peaceful, and agreeable, and likely to remain with- 
out much change for the future. 

Of the public buildings, it may be remarked that the 
extensive British barracks were destroyed by fire in 1792; 
and that the Franciscan Convent was occupied as it had 
been before, as barracks for the troops not in garrison in 
the fort. The appearance of these buildings has been much 
changed, by the extensive repairs and alterations made by 
the United States government. It had formerly a large 
circular look-out upon the top, from which a beautiful 
view of the surrounding country was obtained. Its walls 
are probably the oldest foundation in the city. 

The present United States Court House, now occupied by 
many public offices, was the residence of the Spanish govern- 
ors. It has been rebuilt by the United States, and its former 
quaint and interesting appearance has been lost, in removing 
its look-out tower, and balconies, and the handsome gate- 
way, mentioned by De Brahm, which is said to have been 
a fine specimen of Doric architecture. 

Trinity Episcopal Church was commenced in 1827, and 
consecrated in 1833, by Bishop Bowen, of South Carolina. 
The Presbyterian Church was built about 1830, and the 
Methodist chapel about 1846. 

The venerable-looking building on the bay, at the corner 



84 ST. AUGUSTINE 

of Green Lane and Bay Street, is considered the oldest 
building in the place, and has evidently been a fine building 
in its day. It was the residence of the attorney-general in 
English times. 

The monument on the public square was erected in 
1 812-13, upon the information of the adoption of the 
Spanish constitution, as a memorial of that event, in pursu- 
ance of a royal order to that effect, directed to the public 
authorities of all the provincial towns. Geronimo Alvarez 
was the Alcalde under whose direction it was erected. The 
plan of it was made by Sr. Hernandez, father of the late 
General Hernandez. A short time after it was put up, the 
Spanish constitution having had a downfall, orders were 
issued by the government that all the monuments erected to 
the constitution throughout its dominions should be demol- 
ished. The citizens of St. Augustine were unwilling to see 
their monument torn down; and, with the passive acquiscence 
of the governor, the marble tablets inscribed Plaza de la 
Constituciox being removed, the monument itself was 
allowed to stand ; and it thus remains to this day, the only 
monument in existence to commemorate the farce of the 
constitution of 1 81 2. In 181 8, the tablets were restored 
without objection. 

The bridge and causeway are the work of the government 
of the United States. The present sea-wall was built be- 
tween 1835 an( l T 842, by the United States, at an expense 
of one hundred thousand dollars. 

I cannot perhaps better conclude these historic notices 
than by giving the impressions of the author of Thanatop- 
sis, one whose poetic fame will endure as long as American 
literature exists. Writing from St. Augustine in April, 
1843, he says: 

" At length we emerged upon a shrubby plain, and 
finally came in sight of this oldest city of the United States, 



ST. AUGUSTINE 85 

seated among its trees on a sandy swell of land, where it 
has stood for three hundred years. I was struck with its 
ancient and homely aspect, even at a distance, and could not 
help likening it to pictures which I had seen of Dutch 
towns, though it wanted a wind-mill or two to make the 
resemblance perfect. We drove into a green square, in the 
midst of which was a monument erected to commemorate 
the Spanish constitution of 181 2, and thence through the 
narrow streets of the city to our hotel. 

" I have called the streets narrow. In few places are 
they wide enough to allow two carriages to pass abreast. 
I was told that they were not originally intended for car- 
riages; and that in the time when the town belonged to 
Spain, many of them were floored with an artificial stone, 
composed of shells and mortar, which in this climate takes 
and keeps the hardness of rock; and that no other vehicle 
than a hand-barrow was allowed to pass over them. In 
some places you see remnants of this ancient pavement; but 
for the most part it has been ground into dust under the 
wheels of the carts and carriages introduced by the new 
inhabitants. The old houses, built of a kind of stone which 
is seemingly a pure concretion of small shells, overhang the 
streets with their wooden balconies; and the gardens be- 
tween the houses are fenced on the side of the street with 
high walls of stone. Peeping over these walls you see 
branches of the pomegranate, and of the orange trees now 
fragrant with flowers, and, rising yet higher, the leaning 
boughs of the fig with its broad, luxuriant leaves. Occa- 
sionally you pass the ruins of houses — walls of stone with 
arches and stair-cases of the same material, which once be- 
longed to stately dwellings. You meet in the streets with 
men of swarthy complexions and foreign physiognomy, and 
you hear them speaking to each other in a strange language. 
You are told that these are the remains of those who inhab- 



86 ST. AUGUSTINE 

ited the country under the Spanish dominion, and that the 
dialect you have heard is that of the island of Minorca. 

" ' Twelve years ago,' said an acquaintance of mine, 
' when I first visited St. Augustine, it was a fine old Span- 
ish town. A large proportion of the houses which you now 
see roofed like barns, were then flat-roofed ; they were all of 
shell rock, and these modern wooden buildings were not then 
erected. That old fort which they are now repairing, to 
fit it for receiving a garrison, was a sort of ruin, for the 
outworks had partly fallen, and it stood unoccupied by 
the military, a venerable monument of the Spanish domin- 
ion. But the orange-groves were the wealth and ornament 
of St. Augustine, and their produce maintained the inhab- 
itants in comfort. Orange-trees of the size and height of 
the pear-tree, often rising higher than the roofs of the 
houses, embowered the town in perpetual verdure. They 
stood so close in the groves that they excluded the sun; and 
the atmosphere was at all times aromatic with their leaves 
and fruit, and in spring the fragrance of the flowers was 
almost oppressive.' 

" The old fort of St. Mark, now called Fort Marion, — 
a foolish change of name — is a noble work, frowning over 
the Matanzas, which flows between St. Augustine and the 
island of Anastasia; and it is worth making a long journey 
to see. No record remains of its original construction; but 
it is supposed to have been erected about a hundred and fifty 
years since, and the shell rock of which it is built is dark 
with time. We saw where it had been struck with cannon 
balls, which, instead of splitting the rock, became imbedded 
and clogged among the loosened fragments of shell. This 
rock is therefore one of the best materials for fortification 
in the world. We were taken into the ancient prisons of 
the fort-dungeons, one of which was dimly lighted by a 
grated window, and another entirely without light; and 



ST. AUGUSTINE 87 

by the flame of a torch we were shown the half-obliterated 
inscriptions scrawled on the walls long ago by prisoners. 
But in another corner of the fort, we were taken to look 
at the secret cells, which were discovered a few years since 
in consequence of the sinking of the earth over a narrow 
apartment between them. These cells are deep under 
ground, vaulted overhead, and without windows. In one 
of them a wooden machine was found, which some supposed 
might have been a rack, and in the other a quantity of human 
bones. The doors of these cells had been walled up and 
concealed with stucco, before the fort passed into the hands 
of the Americans. 

" You cannot be in St. Augustine a day without hearing 
some of its inhabitants speak of its agreeable climate. Dur- 
ing the sixteen days of my residence here, the weather 
has certainly been as delightful as I could imagine. We 
have the temperature of early June as June is known in New 
York. The mornings are sometimes a little sultry; but 
after two or three hours a fresh breeze comes in from the 
sea sweeping through the broad piazzas, and breathing in 
at the windows. At this season it comes laden with the 
fragrance of the flowers of the Pride of India, and some- 
times of the orange-tree, and sometimes brings the scent of 
roses, now in bloom. The nights are gratefully cool; and 
I have been told by a person who has lived here many years, 
that there are very few nights in summer when you can 
sleep without a blanket." 



DENVER 
GEORGE W. STEEVENS 

NEXT morning we were in Colorado. The sleepers 
were white with frost, but the sun was half a furnace 
at six in the morning, and the sky was all blue. We were 
rolling, rolling now across the raw prairie. Wave after 
wave of it spread out boundlessly on every side, a pale, sil- 
very-grey under the frost and the dazzling sunshine. No 
room for agriculture here. Seen in the bulk the prairie is 
much like a smooth, undulating sea; but if you look closer 
it is more like a glacier — a glacier of caked sand, wrinkled 
with a thousand crevasses in which streams should run, but 
which only rarely contain so much as a little ooze. The 
surface is dappled with tufts of sage-scrub — small bushes 
that at a distance resemble bleached heather. Occasionally 
appeared sparse blades of coarse grass, but the rare steers and 
horses had a right to be thin. Nothing flourishes in this arid 
wilderness except prairie-dogs. Hundred of the brown- 
furred little devils, a mixture of rabbit and guinea-pig, were 
scampering up and down in the sun, or perking themselves 
bolt upright at the edge of their holes, comically, like a dog 
begging, to look at the train as it rolled past them. Pres- 
ently in the distance the ground began to rise into hills, 
and then the hills into mountains. We did not climb them 
but turned northward and ran through country where 
the grey of the prairie began to be relieved with yellow of 
deciduous trees, and a green field or so of clover. So we 
ran into Denver, the mining capital of the West, the Queen 
City of the Plains. 

88 



DENVER 89 

The Queen City of the Plains, if I may presume to criti- 
cise on a very brief acquaintance, is more plain than queenly. 
A very well-made, well-arranged city beyond doubt, but 
undistinguished. Solid brick-built houses, neither too large 
nor too small, she has in the central part, and agreeable 
residences. Her tram-car system and electric lighting sys- 
tem are not to be impeached. In one respect I noticed 
Denver has risen superior to American carelessness. Many 
cities are apt in places to leave the names or numbers of 
their streets to be remembered by the inhabitant, or con- 
structed out of the inner consciousness. Denver puts a 
couple of boards at each street corner with not only the 
names but also some of the more important or necessary 
businesses between that corner and the next. But, alas! 
even Denver is human, for many of the corners have indeed 
the brackets for such boards, but no trace of boards for the 
brackets. The inhabitants appear, at first sight, to gain a 
precarious livelihood by selling each other railway tickets 
at reduced rates. Outward from the business centre Den- 
ver is much the same as other American cities. Perhaps a 
little more beautiful than Chicago, in that the suburban 
roads are oftener planted with trees; perhaps a little less so, 
in that the acres of railroad tracks and factory in smaller 
Denver are less diluted by dwelling houses. Much the 
same in that the outskirts of both are dingy and dusty and 
sooty, and largely over-populated with Germans. 

But if Chicago has her lake to redeem her, Denver has 
her mountains. No city can be wholly unpleasing where 
you can look up from a street of railway ticket-offices and 
mining agencies to see a great mountain filling the end of 
the vista. It has been remarked by some profound observer 
that the spectacle of high mountains suggests majestic calm. 
It does. But how majestically calm mountains can look 
I never knew till I saw the Rockies from the Argo Smelting 



90 DENVER 

Works. On one side a maze of railway lines and row on 
row of freight-trucks formed the foreground. Behind them 
was a large, low parallelogram of dingy brick and un- 
painted wood and dull slate; out of it rose more than a 
dozen fat chimneys, vomiting clouds of impenetrable black- 
ness. The sun was smeared with the dirtiness of it; the air 
was poisoned with the reek of it, and throbbed with the pulse 
of machinery. On the other side rose the Rocky Mountains. 
In front were the naked brown sides of the lower eleva- 
tions — harsh in colour and savage in outline. Behind them 
towered summits fading from brown to a more kindly grey, 
and beginning to blend the wildness of their shape with the 
clouds. And yet further rose the white peaks above the 
clouds, basking serene and unperturbed in the glory of 
their neighbour, the sun. " In the world there is nothing 
great but man," I repeated with my face to the factory, and 
then looked at the mountains. They did not trouble to 
rebuke me. What is the smelter to them? They looked 
down on that table-land without interest when the smelter 
was born, and they will look down without condescending 
to triumph when it dies. 

Why did I plough through sand and Germans to the 
Argo Smelter? I haven't an idea, unless it was the weird 
of the conscientious journalist, which never lets him get 
away from what he cannot understand. There was next to 
no work going, and nearly all the plant was still and cold. 
It was even pathetic to see the sparse workmen strolling 
about the great sheds built to keep twenty times their num- 
ber busy. But I saw them crushing silver ore, and it was 
about the grimmest industrial operation there could be. No 
delicacy of contrivance or sheen of racing steel, but heavy, 
grimy machinery, crushing the blocks of metallic rock by 
sheer brute force. Then I saw the powder being raked 
to and fro in a square furnace, and being raked round and 



DENVER 91 

round in a circular furnace. Finally it comes out, as I un- 
derstood, in a form in which it can be dissolved in hot 
water and thence precipitated as pure metal. At this point I 
saw some rubble in a wooden box, and turned to ask a work- 
man whether any use could be made of it. He said it 
could; that was the silver. That the silver — that dirty- 
white crumbling mess; half dust, half coagulated like frozen 
snow! That was it: there was about 200 ounces of it, he 
said, strewn about the box, and that was the crushings of 
over ten tons of ore. And was that the stuff that all this 
herculean and vulcanic machinery had been tearing its 
heart out and burning its ribs through to force from the 
rock? That the stuff that is shaking this whole country as 
it has hardly been shaken before? Away, vile dross! 

But that is not the view of Denver. Denver is the centre 
to which comes for smelting the gold and the silver, the 
copper and lead, and the other metals which are woven into 
all the mountains of Colorado. 

Colorado calls herself the Silver State, and of right, for 
she puts out more than one-seventh of the whole production 
of the world. But silver is not what it was. In the last 
three years it has gone down nearly fifty per cent. What 
was paying ore then is now only fit for the dump-heap. 
"Talk of silver barons," said a mining engineer; "you 
could count them nowadays on the fingers of your two 
hands. I don't suppose there are half-a-dozen silver-mines 
now running, bar those that produce gold as well. It was 
a beautiful business once. But now you can't be surprised 
if people that are in want cry out for some change, even 
if it is not quite sound economically." I told him I was 
not surprised — the less so since I perceived that he meant 
to vote for free coinage at 16 to I himself. So will they 
all in Colorado. Who can blame them? 



LAKE GEORGE 
T. ADDISON RICHARDS 

THE Indian, true to that dominant emotion of his 
heart — a pure and reverent loi I Mature — always 
fervently worshipped at this shrine and baptized it humbly — 
in sympathy with its own character and sentiment — Hori- 
con. or the Silvery Waters: he called it. too. Canideriout, 
or the Tail oi the Lake, from its relative position to the 
mate waters of Champlain. The French Catholics, 
equally obeying the specialities of their morale, chris. 
it. in honour of their religious creed. Lake Sacrament: while 
the Anglo-Saxon, no less mindful of his highest and holiest 

made il do homage to his egotism, and named i: 
himself — Lake Ge >rge! 

As we jog on, we may. if we are poetically or arch.vo- 
.'.!y bent — as one is apt to be under such circumstances 
— recall the woeful story of the ill-fated Jenny McCrea. 
and the victory oi G nd defeat of Burgoyne on Bemis' 

Heights, both stories of the ■. After dinner at 

Glen's Falls, we may delight us with the angry and tortu- 
ous passage of the upper Hudson, over immense bank 
jagged marble: and looking into the past, we may espy 
the hiding-place of Cooper's fair creations — Alice and Con 
Munroe, with their veteran guardians, Uncas and Hawk- 
F\ e. The clamour of human industry at this once - 
spot would now drown the footfall of the Mohican better 
than ever did his stealthy moccasin. 

Midway between these famous falls and the lake, we 
Williams' Rock, a venerable boulder on the 



LAKE GEORGE 93 

wayside, remembered with the fate of its god-father, Col. 
Williams, killed here in the " soul-trying " times. The 
action which immortalized this ancient druid has given a 
dreary interest to another spot hard by — a deep-down, dank, 
and dismal " Bloody Pond," where sleep the poor fellows 
who were left to pay the Scot at this sad merry-making. 

The charm of many of the islands and localities embraced 
in the view from Caldwell, is pleasantly heightened by asso- 
ciations of historic incident. Diamond Isle was once (who, 
now watching its peaceful aspect, would ever think it!) a 
depot for military stores and war-clad bands. Long Point, 
hard by, in 1757, formed with the shore a harbour for the 
bateaux of Montcalm. Yonder, too, are still found the 
ruins of forts, and other adjuncts of the pride, pomp, and 
circumstances of glorious war. Fort William Henry, the 
most interesting of these relics, was built by the English 
during the colonial wars with the French, in 1775. Two 
years after, it was destroyed by the Gallic general, Mont- 
calm, on the surrender of the English garrison. The cir- 
cumstances of this capitulation are too tragical to be easily 
forgotten. As the conquered troops were leaving the fort, 
under the promise of protection and escort, they were sav- 
agely attacked by the Indian allies of the victors, and fifteen 
hundred were slain or made captives, the French looking 
calmly and perfidiously on the while, and denying all succour 
or interference. To complete the horror of the scene, the 
mangled corpses of more than a hundred women strewed 
the ground. 

In this vicinage are the ruins of Fort George; and close 
by was once a third fortification, named in honour of Gen- 
eral Gage. 

The average width of Lake George is between two and 
three miles. At the Mohican House, this average is ex- 
ceeded ; indeed, at one other point only is it anywhere 



94 LAKE GEORGE 

broader than here. All the leading features of the locality 
are happily commanded here. The islands within range 
of the eye are many and of surpassing beauty — and among 
them is that odd little nautical eccentricity called Ship 
Island, from the mimicry in its verdure to the proportions 
and lines of the ship. The landing is near the mouth of 
the northwest bay — a special expanse of five miles, stolen 
from the main waters by the grand mountain promontory, 
aptly called the Tongue. It is the extension into the Lake 
of this ridge of hill which forms the Narrows, entered imme- 
diately after passing Bolton. Contracted as the channel 
is at this point, it seems yet narrower from the greater ele- 
vation of the mountains, among which are the most mag- 
nificent peaks of the neighbourhood. Here is the home of 
Shelving Rock, with its hemisphere of palisades, and its 
famous dens of rattlesnakes; here, too, monarch of hills, 
the Black Mountain, with his rugged crown of rock, holds 
his court. Tongue Mountain is the favoured haunt of the 
Nimrods in their search for the luscious venison. Speaking 
of the chase reminds us that we owe a line to the sister 
sport of the angle. It is in the vicinage of Bolton that both 
these delights may be best attained, and particularly is it 
the field, par excellence, for piscatory achievements. Were 
it not that so very little credence is placed in the avoirdu- 
pois of fishermen, we would allude modestly to the weight 
of certain astonishing creatures of the trout and bass kind 
which we have ourselves persuaded to the hook. 

Charming as are the scenes from the surface of the Lake, 
they are surpassed by the glimpses continually occurring 
in the passage of the road on the western shore (the precipi- 
tousness of the mountains on the other side admits of no 
land passage), and commanded by the summits of the hills. 
Leaving Bolton, the road which has thus far followed the 
margin or the vicinage of the water, steals off, and sullenly 



LAKE GEORGE 95 

winds its rugged and laborious way across the mountains, 
offering nothing of interest until it again descends to the 
Lake near Garfield's — a tedious traverse of a score of miles 
or more. The interval is much more rapidly and pleasantly 
made on the steamer. From Sabbath-Day Point and Gar- 
field's the road again jogs on merrily in the neighbourhood 
of the water. Descending the mountains at the northern 
end of this central portion of the Lake road, you catch a 
noble and welcome panorama of the upper part of the 
Horicon. But returning to Bolton — we were about speak- 
ing of the delightful scenes from the shore thereat. Within 
a short walk northward, an exceedingly characteristic view 
is found looking across the mouth of the Northwest bay of 
the Narrows. From all the eminences or from the shore, 
the landscape is here of admirable simplicity, breadth, and 
grandeur. It is seen most justly as the morning sun peeps 
over Black Mountain and its attendant peaks. Looking 
southward from various points yet further on, fine views 
of the head of the Lake are obtained — among them the 
master feature of the southern extremity — the French 
Mountain — terminating a pleasant stretch of lawn, hill, 
and islanded water. 

It is while the eye is filled with such scenes as these 
modest hilltops offer, more, perhaps, than when embowered 
in the solitudes of the island shades, or than when wander- 
ing by the rippling shore, that the soul is most conscious 
of the subtle nature of the charms which make us cling to 
and desire ever to dwell near Horicon. This secret and 
omnipotent essence is the rare presence of the quiet and 
grace of the beautiful — heightened, but not overcome, by the 
laughing caprices of the picturesque, and the solemn dig- 
nity of the grand in nature. The beautiful alone, wanting 
that contrast and variety which keeps curiosity alert and 
interested, soon wearies and cloys — the sublime calling forth 



96 LAKE GEORGE 

feelings of astonishment, and sometimes even of terror, 
stretches the fibres so much beyond their natural tone as to 
create pain, so that the effect, however great, cannot be 
very enduring. When these several qualities are united, as 
they are in the luxuriant, changeful, and wide-spreading 
landscape of Lake George, a pleasant and lasting sensation 
of delight is the result — a healthy tone of pleasurable ex- 
citement, in which are avoided the extremes both of the 
languor of beauty and the painful tension of emotion pro- 
duced by the sublime. 

The attractions of Horicon will be yet more perfect when 
time shall effect the additional infusion of the picturesque, 
which will follow the enterprise, opulence, and taste of in- 
creasing population. Though now exhibiting all the ele- 
ments of perfect beauty, she yet bides her time for complete 
development. She is now, to her sister waters of the Old 
World, as the untaught forest maiden is to the peerless 
queen of the boudoir and saloon. The refining and spirit- 
ualizing hand of art will soon enliven her quieter features, 
and soften her rougher characteristics. Ruined battlements 
and legendary shrines may never deck her bluffs and prom- 
ontories in the mystic veil of romance, but happy cottages 
and smiling homes of health and content will climb her 
rude acclivities, and merry summer villas will peep glee- 
fully out of the clustering shrubbery of her lovely isles, 
bringing to heart more grateful thoughts and hopes than 
would the vaunted accessories of older spots, inasmuch as 
they will whisper of a yet higher civilization and of a nobler 
life. 

So admirably attuned are all the elements of beauty in 
the scenery of Lake George, that on our first acquaintance 
with the region we could scarcely imagine it ever to appear 
under a different aspect than the sunny phase in which we 
then saw it. So perfect did nature appear, both in the 



LAKE GEORGE 97 

general sentiment and in the most minute detail, that we 
could think of her doing 

" Nothing but that, more still, still so, and own 
No other function " 

As we gazed around upon the chattering waters and upon 
the rejoicing hills, we wondered whether storm and cloud 
ever darkened their radiant face — whether the wrath of 
the mad and unchained elements ever managed to break 
the spell of calm repose. But we learned in due time that, 
as the mildest eye will sometimes glance in wrath, and the 
rosiest lip will curl in scorn, so the black scowl of the 
tempest would gather upon the brows of the peaceful hills, 
and hide the smile of the gentle floods of Horicon — only, 
though, soon to pass away, and leave hill and water more 
verdant and sparkling than before. When the air is thus 
cleared by storm or shower, the surrounding hills glitter 
in almost painful distinctness, each stem and stone from the 
base to the crown of the mountains seeming to come within 
the grasp of your hand. Once — deceived by this false sem- 
blance — we were persuaded to undertake the passage of the 
Lake and the ascent of Black Mountain. " It is so easy 
and simple a matter," said our adventurous friends, " and 
may be managed so readily and so rapidly." Alas! poor 
deluded wretches! Well was it that our fancy came with 
the rising of the sun, and that no delay followed in the exe- 
cution, for night fairly overtook us before we regained our 
domicile, under the firm conviction of the verity of the old 
proverb touching the deceitfulness of appearances. As a 
memento of this excursion we brought back a rattlesnake 
which we demolished on the way; and the skin of which 
one of our party, following the sumptuary habits of the 
people, afterwards wore as a hat-band. Turning from the 
position whence we have been gazing upon the French 



98 LAKE GEORGE 

Mountain, we may detect, upon the extreme left, the petite 
area of Fourteen Mile Island, lying at the base of Shelving 
Rock, and near the entrance to the Narrows. This is a 
famous temporary home of the Nimrods who chase the deer 
over the crags of the Tongue Mountain, opposite. The 
domestic appliances of this rude resting-place are as nomadic 
as the roughest hunter could desire. 

On the Pinacle, a lofty peak west of the hotel, a more 
extended panorama of the Lake is obtained. We often 
climbed to the summit of the hills on the road westward of 
Bolton; once we found ourselves there at the very peep of 
day, when the stern and rugged phiz of Black Mountain 
was bathed in the purple light of the rising sun; the few 
fleeting clouds visible in the heavens were tinged with gold, 
doubly gorgeous in contrast with the grey hue of the unillu- 
mined hills beneath, the blue waters, and the yet-sleeping 
islands. Still a few moments, and " heaven's wide arch 
was glorious with the sun's returning march." Floods of 
living light swept over the extended landscape — the hun- 
dred islets rubbed their sleepy eyes, and joyously awoke 
again, while the waters threw off the drapery of their 
couch in the shape of long lines of vapour, which the jocund 
king of day — merrily performing the role of chambermaid — 
busied himself in rolling carefully up on the hillside, and 
hiding away until they should be again required. It was 
one of those magical scenes of which the poet and painter 
more often dream than realize. 

Thus far our panorama gazings have (from the inter- 
vening of the Tongue) shown us only the southern end 
of Horicon. At the 2200 feet elevation of the Black 
Mountain, the eye sweeps the entire extent of the lake — 
Champlain, lying at its eastern base — and of all the region 
round, to the peaks of the Adirondacks, and the green hills 
of Vermont. But very few tourists, few of the Nimrods 



LAKE GEORGE 99 

even, brave the toils of an ascent to the crown of this stately 
pile. The way is wearisomely steep and beset with dan- 
gers. Watching with due precaution for the rattlesnake, 
you may overlook the approach of the bear, or unexpectedly 
encounter the catamount — not to mention the host of less 
distinguished animals, " native here, and to the manner 
born." 

When you are ready, or necessitated rather, to say adieu 
to Bolton (for continued parting is the sad alloy of the 
traveller's rare privilege of varied greeting) , the little 
steamer will pick you up all in the morning betimes, and 
whisk you through the Narrows to your next bivouac, at 
Sabbath-Day Point. 

The passage of the Narrows, either in storm or sunshine, 
at noontide or night, is not the least agreeable item in your 
Lake experience. The waters here reach a depth of four 
hundred feet, and so surprisingly translucent are they, that 
you may watch the gambols of the finny peoples many 
fathoms below the surface. In most parts of the Lake you 
may count the pebbles at the bottom as your skiff glides 
along. 

We shall be set ashore at Sabbath-Day Point in a bat- 
teau, for want of a steamboat landing. Such a convenience 
was once found here. Once Sabbath-Day Point was a 
point everybody longed to know. A commodious and fash- 
ionable summer hotel stood here, and a miraculous old land- 
lord did the honours in his own remarkable way. Hotel, 
landlord, and visitors have all vanished. Nature, though, 
yet remains — young, lovely, and riant as ever. The pleas- 
ant strip of meadow pokes its merry nose into the Lake 
with the saucy impudence of other days, and scans with 
wonted satisfaction the glorious sweep of the waters, as 
they vanish southward in the defile of the Narrows; or 
northward, reflect on their broad expanse the Titan phiz 



IOO LAKE GEORGE 

of good Saint Anthony, and the rocky flanks of Roger's 
Slide. 

In 1756, a handful of colonists here successfully repelled 
a stormy onslaught of the Indians and French. Here, too, 
in 1758, General Abercrombie and his gallant army 
lunched, en route from Fort George, at the head of the 
Lake, to attack the French at Ticonderoga. The sky was 
gemmed with stars, and the disc of the moon fell unbroken 
upon the motionless waters, as this glorious array of a thou- 
sand boats, bearing sixteen thousand men, pursued their 
stealthy march. As the brilliant cavalcade debarked, the 
bright uniforms sparkled in the beams of the rising sun, 
and the morning being the Sabbath, the little cape was 
happily called Sabbath-Day Point. Here again, in the 
memorable 1776, the patriot militia dealt some successful 
back-handers to the Tories and their Indian allies. 

From Sabbath-Day Point we may re-embark on the 
steamer, or continue our journey by land, as the road now 
touches the Lake again. Three miles onward we make 
the little village of Hague, if village it can be styled. The 
visitor will remember the locality as Garfield's — one of the 
oldest and most esteemed summer camps. Judge Garfield 
would seem to have an intimate acquaintance with every 
deer on the hillside, and with every trout in the waters, 
so habitually are these gentry found at his luxurious table. 

An excellent landing facilitates the approach to Gar- 
field's, and the steamboat touches daily, up and down. 

The shore route hence to Ticonderoga is through a 
pleasant country, well worth exploring. We will pursue 
our journey now by water. Just beyond, the Lake is again 
reduced to Procrustean limits, as it brushes between the 
opposing walls of Rogers' Rock and Anthony's Slide. The 
reader is doubtless familiar with the ruse by which Major 
Rogers, flying from the Indians in 1758, persuaded them 



LAKE GEORGE ioi 

that he had achieved the marvellous feat of sliding down 
this grand declivity; thus cleverly reversing the theory of 
the sublime Western poet — seeking to — 

"Prove that one Indian savage 
Is worth two white men, on an av'rage." 

North of Rogers' Rock the character of the Lake changes ; 
the wild mountain shores yield to a fringe of verdant lawn 
and shady copse, and the water grows momently more shal- 
low. This last variation was a Godsend to the first Eng- 
lish captives, detained by the French and Indians in the 
olden time, upon Prisoners' Island, hereabouts. At a quiet 
moment they took French leave, and waded ashore. 

Directly west of Prisoners' Island is Howe's Landing, 
the point of debarkation of the mighty flotilla which we 
met at Sabbath-Day Point: and here, too, good reader, is 
our landing, and the end of our voyage of Horicon. 

You will now collect your traps, and stepping with us, 
into one of the carriages which await — take a pleasant jog 
of four miles down the merry outlet of Lake George, and 
through the two villages of Ticonderoga, or " Tye," as they 
are familiarly called, to the brave old fort which the sturdy 
Ethan Allen so audaciously seized, " in the name of the 
Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress." In this 
little four-mile gallop of Horicon to Lake Champlain, the 
water makes a descent of two hundred and thirty feet, 
forming in the journey two series of very considerable cas- 
cades, called the Upper and Lower Falls; both made indus- 
trially available by the denizens of the villages just men- 
tioned. This ride, with its opening vistas of the valleys and 
hills of Vermont; its foaming cataracts; its charming reve- 
lations of the grand waters of Champlain ; and, above all, its 
termination amidst the remains of the famed old Fort, is a 
welcome sequel to the day's delights. 



PLYMOUTH ROCK 
JOHN GORHAM PALFREY 

THE narrow peninsula, sixty miles long, which ter- 
minates in Cape Cod, projects eastwardly from the 
mainland of Massachusetts, in shape resembling; the human 
arm bent rectangularly at the elbow and again at the wrist. 
In the basin enclosed landward by the extreme point of this 
projection, in the roadstead of what is now Provincetown, 
the Mayflower dropped her anchor at noon on a Saturday 
near the close of autumn. The exigencies of a position so 
singular demanded an organization adequate to the preser- 
vation of order and of common safety, and the following 
instrument was prepared and signed : 

" In the name of God, amen. We, whose names are 
underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign 
lord, King James, by the grace of God, of Great Britain, 
France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, &c, hav- 
ing undertaken, for the glory of God, and advancement of 
the Christian faith, and honour of our King and country, 
a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of 
Virginia, do by these presents, solemnly and mutually, in 
the presence of God and one of another, covenant and com- 
bine ourselves together in a civil body politic, for our better 
ordering and preservation, and furtherance of the ends 
aforesaid ; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute, and 
frame such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, constitu- 
tions, and offices, from time to time, as shall be thought 
most meet and convenient for the general good of the 
colony ; unto which we promise all due submission and 

102 



PLYMOUTH ROCK 103 

obedience. In witness whereof we have hereunder sub- 
scribed our names, at Cape Cod, the nth of November, 
in the year of the reign of our sovereign lord, King James, 
of England, France, and Ireland the eighteenth, and of 
Scotland the fifty-fourth, Anno Domini 1620." 

Such was the beginning of the Colony of Plymouth. To 
the end of its separate history, it continued to be an humble 
community in numbers and in wealth. When four years 
had passed, the village consisted of only thirty-two cabins, 
inhabited by a hundred and eighty persons. 

The government of the company was proscribed by the 
majority of voices, and administered by one of its members, 
with another for his assistant. It was not so much a com- 
monwealth as a factory, of which the head bore the title 
of Governor. Six years later, it had added two hundred 
more; and, at the end of its life of seventy years, its popu- 
lation, scattered through several towns, had probably not 
come to exceed eight thousand. It is on account of the vir- 
tue displayed in its institution and management, and of the 
great consequences to which it ultimately led, that the 
Colony of Plymouth claims the attention of mankind. In 
any other view, its records would be unattractive. The 
building of log hovels, the turning of sand-heaps into corn- 
fields, dealings with stupid Indians and with overreaching 
partners in trade, anxious struggles to get a living, and, 
at most, the sufferings of men, women, and children, wast- 
ing under cold, sickness, and famine, feebly supply, as the 
staple of a history, the place of those splendid exhibitions 
of power, and those critical conflicts of intrigue and war, 
which fill the annals of great empires. 

At the time of the adoption of the compact for a govern- 
ment, Carver was chosen Governor of the company. In 
the afternoon, " fifteen or sixteen men, well armed," were 
sent on shore to reconnoitre and collect fuel. They re- 



104 PLYMOUTH ROCK 

turned at evening, reporting that they had seen neither 
person nor dwelling, but that the country was well wooded, 
and that the appearance as to soil was promising. 

Having kept their Sabbath in due retirement, the men 
began the labours of the week by landing a shallop from 
the ship and hauling it up the beach for repairs, while the 
women went on shore to wash clothes. While the car- 
penter and his men were at work on the boat, sixteen others, 
armed and provisioned, with Standish for their commander, 
set off on foot to explore the country. The only incident 
of this day was the sight of five or six savages, who on their 
approach ran away too swiftly to be overtaken. At night, 
lighting a fire and setting a guard, the party bivouacked 
at the distance, as they supposed, of ten miles from their 
vessel. Proceeding southward next morning, they observed 
marks of cultivation, some heaps of earth, which they took 
for signs of graves, and the remains of a hut, with " a great 
kettle, which had been some ship's kettle." In a heap 
which they opened, they found two baskets containing four 
or five bushels of Indian corn, of which they took as much 
as they could carry away in their pockets and in the kettle. 
Further on, they saw two canoes, and " an old fort or pali- 
sado, made by some Christians," as they thought. The sec- 
ond night, w T hich was rainy, they encamped again, with 
more precautions than before. On Friday evening, having 
lost their way meamvhile, and been amused by an accident 
to Bradford, who was caught in an Indian deer-trap, they 
returned to their friends " both weary and welcome," and 
delivered in their corn into the store to be kept for seed, 
for they knew not how to come by any, and therefore were 
very glad, proposing, so soon as they could meet with any 
of the inhabitants of that place, to make them large satis- 
faction. 

The succeeding week was spent in putting their tools in 



PLYMOUTH ROCK 105 

order and preparing timber for a new boat. During this 
time, which proved to be cold and stormy, much incon- 
venience was experienced from having to wade " a bow- 
shot " through the shallow water to the shore ; and many 
took " coughs and colds, which afterwards turned to the 
scurvy." On Monday of the week next following, twenty- 
four of the colonists, in the shallop, which was now re- 
fitted, set out for an exploration along the coast, accom- 
panied by Jones, the shipmaster, and ten of his people, in 
the long-boat. That day and the following night they 
suffered from a cold snowstorm, and were compelled to 
run in to the shore for security. The next day brought 
them into the harbour to which the preceding journey by 
land had been extended, now named by them Cold Har- 
bour, and ascertained to have a depth of twelve feet of 
water at flood-tide. Having slept under a shelter of pine 
trees, they proceeded to. make an examination of the spot 
as to its fitness for their settlement; in doing which, under 
the snow-covered and frozen surface, they found another 
parcel of corn and a bag of beans. These spoils they sent 
back in the shallop with Jones and sixteen of the party, 
who were ill, or worn out with exposure and fatigue. 
Marching inland five or six miles, they found a grave with 
a deposit of personal articles, as " bowls, trays, dishes," " a 
knife, a pack-needle," " a little bow," and some " strings 
and bracelets of fine white beads." Two wigwams were 
seen, which appeared to have been recently inhabited. Re- 
turning to their boat in the evening, the party hastened to 
rejoin their friends. 

The question was discussed whether they should make 
a further examination of the coast, or sit down at the 
harbour which had been visited. The land about it had 
been under cultivation. The site appeared healthy, and 
convenient for defence, as well as for taking whales, of 



106 PLYMOUTH ROCK 

which numbers were daily seen. The severity of the win- 
ter season was close at hand, and the delay, fatigue, and 
risk of further explorations were dreaded. But on the 
whole, the uncertainty as to an adequate supply of water, 
with the insufficiency of the harbour, which, though com- 
modious for boats, was too shallow for larger vessels, was 
regarded as a conclusive objection, and it was resolved to 
make a further examination of the bay. The mate of the 
Mayflower had told them of Agawam, now Ipswich, as a 
good harbour, with fertile land, and facilities for fishing. 
But, as things stood, it was thought too distant for a visit. 
As soon as the state of the weather permitted, a party 
of ten, including Carver, Bradford, and others of the prin- 
cipal men, set off with eight seamen in the shallop on what 
proved to be the final expedition of discovery. The severity 
of the cold was extreme. " The water froze on their 
clothes, and made them many times like coats of iron." 
Coasting along the cape in a southerly direction for six or 
seven leagues, they landed and slept at a place where ten 
or twelve Indians had appeared on the shore. The Indians 
ran away on being approached, and at night it was supposed 
that it was their fires which appeared at four or five miles' 
distance. The next day, while part of the company in the 
shallop examined the shore, the rest, ranging about the 
country where are now the towns of Wellfleet and East- 
ham, found a burial-place, some old wigwams, and a small 
store of parched acorns, buried in the ground ; but they met 
with no inhabitants. The following morning, at daylight, 
they had just ended their prayers, and were preparing 
breakfast at their camp on the beach, when they heard a 
yell, and a flight of arrows fell among them. The assail- 
ants turned out to be thirty or forty Indians, who, being 
fired upon, retired. Neither side had been harmed. A 
number of the arrows were picked up, " some whereof 



PLYMOUTH ROCK 107 

were headed with brass, others with hart's horn, and others 
with eagle's claws." 

Getting on board, they sailed all day along the shore in 
a storm of snow and sleet, making, by their estimate, a 
distance of forty or fifty miles, without discovering a har- 
bour. In the afternoon, the gale having increased, their 
rudder was disabled, and they had to steer with oars. At 
length the mast was carried away, and they drifted in the 
dark with a flood tide. With difficulty they brought up 
under the lee of a " small rise of land." Here a part of 
the company, suffering from wet and cold, went on shore, 
though not without fear of hostile neighbours, and lighted 
a fire by which to pass the inclement night. In the morn- 
ing, " they found themselves to be on an island secure from 
the Indians, where they might dry their stuff, fix their 
pieces, and rest themselves; and, this being the last day of 
the week, they prepared there to keep the Sabbath. 1 

" On Monday, they sounded the harbour, and found it 
fit for shipping, and marched also into the land, and found 

1 " A trustworthy tradition has preserved the knowledge of the 
landing-place, naturally an object of interest both to the inhabi- 
tants and to strangers. It was Plymouth Rock. Part of it is now 
imbedded in a wharf. When this was about to be built, in 1741, 
Elder Thomas Faunce, then ninety-one years old, came to visit the 
rock, and to remonstrate against its being exposed to injury; and 
he repeated what he had heard of it from the first planters. Elder 
Faunce's testimony was transmitted through Mrs. White, who died 
in 1810, ninety-five years old, and Deacon Ephraim Spooner, who 
died in 1818, at the age of eighty-three. In 1775, the rock was 
broken into two pieces, in an attempt to remove it to the town 
square. The large fragment which was separated was, in 1834, 
placed before Pilgrim Hall, and inclosed within an iron railing. 

" The tradition does not appear to have unequivocally determined 
who it was that landed on the rock, whether the exploring party 
of ten men who went on shore at Plymouth, December n (old 
style), or the whole company, who came into Plymouth harbour in 



108 PLYMOUTH ROCK 

divers cornfields and little running brooks, a place, as they 
supposed, fit for situation; ... so they returned to 
the ship again with this news to the rest of their people, 
which did much comfort their hearts." Such is the record 
of that event which has made the twenty-second of De- 
cember a memorable day in the calendar. 

the Mayflower on Saturday, December 16, and who, or a part of 
whom, ' went a land ' two days after. The received opinion, that 
the same landing-place, as being the most convenient within sight, 
was used on both occasions, appears altogether probable." 



FORT NIAGARA 
S. DE VEAUX 

THIS fortress is in latitude 43 deg. 14 sec. N. In 
1679, a small spot was enclosed by palisades, by 
M. De Salle, an officer in the service of France. In 1725, 
the fort was built. In 1759, it was taken by the British, 
under Sir William Johnson. The capture has been ascribed 
to treachery, though there is not known to be any existing 
authority to prove the charge. In 1796, it was surrendered 
to the United States. On the 19th of December, 1813, it 
was again taken by the British, by surprise; and in March, 
1 8 15, again surrendered to the Americans. This old fort 
is as much noted for enormity and crime, as for any good 
ever derived from it by the nation in occupation. While 
in the hands of the French, there is no doubt of its having 
been, at times, used as a prison; its close and impregnable 
dungeons, where light was not admitted, and where re- 
mained, for many years after, clear traces, and a part of 
the ready instruments for execution, or for murder. Dur- 
ing the American Revolution it was the headquarters of 
all that was barbarous, unrelenting, and cruel. There, 
were congregated the leaders and chiefs of those bands of 
murderers and miscreants, that carried death and destruc- 
tion into the remote American settlements. There, civil- 
ized Europe revelled with savage America; and ladies of 
education and refinement mingled in the society of those 
whose only distinction was to wield the bloody tomahawk 
and scalping-knife. There, the squaws of the forest were 
raised to eminence, and the most unholy unions between 

109 



110 FORT NIAGARA 

them and the officers of highest rank, smiled upon and coun- 
tenanced. There, in their stronghold, like a nest of vul- 
tures, securely, for seven years, they sallied forth and 
preyed upon the distant settlements of the Mohawks and 
Susquehannas. It was the depot of their plunder; there, 
they planned their forays, and there they returned to feast, 
until the hour of action came again. 

Fort Niagara is in the State of New York, and stands 
on a point of land at the mouth of the Niagara River. 
It is a traditionary story, that the mess-house, which is a 
very strong building and the largest in the fort, was erected 
by stratagem. A considerable, though not powerful, body 
of French troops had arrived at the point. Their force 
was inferior to the surrounding Indians, of whom they 
were under some apprehensions. They obtained consent of 
the Indians to build a wigwam, and induced them, with 
some of their officers, to engage in an extensive hunt. The 
materials had been made ready, and, while the Indians 
were absent, the French built. When the parties returned, 
at night, they had advanced so far with the work as to 
cover their faces, and to defend themselves against the sav- 
ages, in case of an attack. In progress of time, it became a 
place of considerable strength. It had its bastions, ravines; 
its ditch and pickets; its curtains and counterscarp; its cov- 
ered way, drawbridge, raking batteries; its stone towers, 
laboratory, and magazine; its mess-house, barracks, bakery 
and blacksmith shop; and, for worship, a chapel, with a 
large ancient dial over the door, to mark the hourly course 
of the sun. It was, indeed, a little city of itself, and for a 
long period the greatest south of Montreal, or west of 
Albany. The fortifications originally covered a space of 
about eight acres. At a few rods from the barrier gate, 
was the burying ground; it was rilled with memorials of 
the mutability of human life; and over the portals of the 



FORT NIAGARA III 

entrance was painted, in large and emphatic characters, the 
word " REST." 

It is generally believed that some of the distant for- 
tresses of France were often converted into state prisons, 
as well as for defensive purposes. There was much about 
Fort Niagara to establish the belief that it had been used 
as such. The dungeon of the mess-house, called the black 
hole, was a strong, dark, and dismal place; and in one cor- 
ner of the room was fixed the apparatus for strangling such 
unhappy wretches as fell under the displeasure of the 
despotic rulers of those days. The walls of this dungeon, 
from top to bottom, had engraved upon them French 
names, and mementos in that language. That the prisoners 
were no common persons was clear, as the letters and 
emblems were chiselled out in good style. In June, 1 8 12, 
when an attack was momentarily expected upon the fort by 
a superior British force, a merchant, resident at Fort Ni- 
agara, deposited some valuable articles in this dungeon. He 
took occasion, one night, to visit it with a light; he exam- 
ined the walls, and there, among hundreds of French names, 
he saw his own family name engraved, in large letters. He 
took no notes, and has no recollection of the other names 
and memorials; he intended to repeat his visit, and to ex- 
tend his examination, but other avocations caused the sub- 
ject to be neglected ; and it was not brought to mind again 
until late years, when all was changed. 

In further corroboration that Fort Niagara had wit- 
nessed scenes of guilt and foul murder, was the fact that, 
in 1805, it became necessary to clear out an old sink at- 
tached to the mess-house. The bones of a female were 
found therein, evidently, from the place where discovered, 
the victim of some atrocious crime. 

There were many legendary stories about the fort. In 
the centre of the mess-house was a well of water, but, it 



112 FORT NIAGARA 

having been poisoned by some of the former occupants, in 
latter years the water was not used; and it was a story 
with the soldiers, and believed by the superstitious, that at 
midnight the headless trunk of a French general officer was 
often seen sitting on the curb of the old well, where he 
had been murdered, and his body thrown in; and, accord- 
ing to dreamers and money-diggers, large treasures, both in 
gold and silver, have been buried in many of the nooks 
and corners of the old fort. Many applications used to be 
made to the American officers, to dig for money, and per- 
sons have been known to come from a considerable dis- 
tance for that purpose. The requests were, of course, 
refused. 

Of late years, matter of fact has been more strange than 
romance. William Morgan was kidnapped from the jail 
in Canandaigua; carried in a post coach, undiscovered and 
by violence, for more than one hundred miles, through a 
populous country; the perpetrators, at the time, unsus- 
pected; was lodged in the magazine at Fort Niagara, for 
three or four days ; and then was never more seen. He was 
the last human victim offered up in these recesses of oppres- 
sion and blood. What future scenes are to be acted in this 
useless and ruinous old fort, time will divulge. 

In the palmy days of Fort Niagara, before the last war 
with England, and while in possession of the United States, 
the commanding officer was the principal man in the sur- 
rounding country for many miles, and the lieutenants and 
under officers, men of considerable importance; but the 
show and eclat of military command have vanished, and 
the farmer, the mechanic, and the man of business, fill, 
independently and respectably, their allotted stations. 



THE BRANDYWINE 
BENSON JOHN LOSSING 

ON the morning of the nth of September, the day of 
the battle on the Brandywine, the main strength of 
the American army was posted on the heights east of Chad's 
Ford, and commanding that passage of the creek. The 
brigades of Muhlenberg and Weeden, which composed 
Greene's division, occupied a position directly east of the 
ford; Wayne's division and Proctor's artillery were posted 
upon the brow of an eminence near Chad's house, imme- 
diately above the ford; and the brigades of Sullivan, Ster- 
ling, and Stephen, which formed the right wing, extended 
some distance up the river, on the left of the main body. 
At Pyle's Ford, two miles below, General Armstrong was 
posted with one thousand Pennsylvania militia, to guard 
that pass. General Maxwell, with about one thousand 
light troops, took post on the heights upon the west side 
of the river, about a mile from Chad's Ford, to dispute 
that passage. 

At daybreak, the column under Cornwallis moved along 
the Lancaster road, which, for several miles, ran nearly 
parallel with the Brandywine. General Howe was with 
this division. Knyphausen and his command moved for- 
ward at nine o'clock. A dense fog enshrouded the coun- 
try, and the scouting parties of both armies often came in 
close contact before they were aware of their proximity. 
From behind the walls of the graveyard of the Kennet 
meeting-house, and also of houses, trees, and clumps of 
bushes, parties of militia kept up an annoying fire upon the 

"3 



II 4 THE BRANDYWINE 

advancing enemy. Knyphausen, however, pushed forward 
toward Chad's Ford. He sent a strong advance party to 
dislodge Maxwell. They met at about ten o'clock, and a 
severe engagement ensued. Maxwell was driven back to 
the verge of the stream at the ford, where he was re-enforced. 
Turning upon his pursuers, he made a furious charge. The 
ranks of the enemy were thrown into confusion, and fell 
back upon Knyphausen's main column. Unable to cope 
with Maxwell in open battle without bringing a larger 
force into action, Knyphausen sent a detachment through the 
woods to make an attack upon his flank. Perceiving this 
movement, Maxwell retreated across the stream, leaving 
the whole vast bank of the Brandywine in possession of 
the enemy. 

Knyphausen now brought forward his ordnance, and 
from the brow of the hill upon the west side of the 
stream he kept up a strong cannonade upon the Americans, 
without attempting to cross. The fire was returned with 
spirit by Proctor's artillery. Knyphausen did not cross the 
Brandywine, because he was instructed by Howe to amuse 
the Americans with feigned efforts to make the passage of 
the ford, until Cornwallis should cross above, and gain the 
right and rear of the patriots. This accomplished, Knyp- 
hausen was directed to push across Chad's Ford, when the 
two divisions of the royal army would make a simultaneous 
attack. During these manoeuvres of Knyphausen, several 
detachments of the Americans crossed the river, and boldly 
attacked his flanking parties and those who were labouring 
to throw up intrenchments. Captains Porterfield and 
Waggoner having secured a footing on the western side, 
General Maxwell recrossed the stream with a considerable 
force, drove the enemy from the ground, killed about thirty 
men, and seized a quantity of intrenching tools, with which 
they were constructing a battery. Knyphausen sent an 




THE BRANDYWINE 



THE BRANDYWINE 115 

overwhelming force against them, which soon drove the 
Americans back to their lines on the east side of the river. 
General Sullivan, who commanded the right wing of 
the Americans, was ordered to guard the fords as high up 
as BufHngton's, just above the forks of the Brandywine. 
He sent scouting parties in various directions to observe the 
movements of the enemy. Colonel Moses Hazen was sta- 
tioned with a considerable force at Jones's Ford. Between 
nine and ten In the morning, Colonel Theodoric Bland, 
with some light horse, crossed the Brandywine at Jones's 
Ford, and discovered a portion of Cornwallis' division 
marching toward the west branch, at Trimble's Ford. 
Bland despatched a messenger to Sullivan with the infor- 
mation, which was confirmed by another despatch from 
Colonel Ross (dated at " Great Valley road at eleven 
o'clock"), who was in the rear of Cornwallis' division, 
informing Sullivan that " five thousand men, with sixteen 
or eighteen field pieces, were on the march for Taylor's 
and Jefferies's Fords." Similar intelligence was sent by 
Colonel Hazen. These accounts reached Washington, from 
Sullivan, between eleven and twelve o'clock. The comman- 
der-in-chief immediately ordered Sullivan to pass the 
Brandywine and attack Cornwallis, while he, with the 
main division, crossed, and engaged Knyphausen at Chad's 
Ford. General Greene, of Washington's division, was or- 
dered to cross the river above the ford and gain Knyp- 
hausen's rear. Before these several movements could be 
executed, counter intelligence was received by Sullivan from 
Major Spear, of the militia, posted upon the forks of the 
Brandywine, who informed him that there was no appear- 
ance of an enemy in that quarter. Spear's information was 
confirmed by Sergeant Tucker, who had been sent out in 
that direction expressly to gain information. Relying upon 
this intelligence, Sullivan halted. He despatched a mes- 



Il6 THE BRANDYWINE 

senger to Washington with the information, and the medi- 
tated attack upon the enemy at Chad's Ford was aban- 
doned. Greene, who had crossed with his advanced guard, 
was recalled. 

While Washington was thus kept in suspense by con- 
flicting intelligence, Cornwallis gained his coveted advan- 
tage. He made a circuitous march of seventeen miles, 
keeping beyond the American patrols, crossed the west 
branch of the Brandywine at Trimble's Ford, and the east 
branch at Jefferis's, and gained the heights near the Bir- 
mingham meeting-house, within two miles of Sullivan's right 
flank, before that general was certain that Howe and Corn- 
wallis had left Kennet Square! This apparent want of vigi- 
lance on the part of his patrols drew upon Sullivan the 
severest censure of the public. Already the failure of an 
expedition against British posts on Staten Island, under his 
general command, had biased public opinion against him; 
and Congress, wherein Sullivan had several active enemies, 
had directed General Washington to appoint a court to 
investigate the matter. The disasters which occurred on 
the Brandywine were charged to Sullivan's want of vigi- 
lance, energy, and skill, and he was held responsible for the 
defeat of our troops. Even his honourable acquittal, by a 
court-martial, subsequently, did not altogether remove from 
the public mind a distrust of his ability as a general officer. 

When Sullivan was assured, by a note from Colonel 
Bland, dated at " quarter past one o'clock." that the enemy 
were in great force on Osborne's Hill, a little to the right 
of the Birmingham meeting-house, he despatched a mes- 
senger to Washington with the intelligence, and marched 
immediately to oppose the enemy. His division consisted 
of his own, Sterling's, and Stephens' brigades. Upon the 
gentle slopes near the Birmingham meeting-house he began 
to form his line for battle, his left extending toward the 



THE BRANDYWINE 117 

Brandywine. It was an advantageous position, for both 
flanks were covered by thick woods; but, in consequence of 
the delay in waiting the return of the messenger with orders 
from the commander-in-chief, the rough and broken char- 
acter of the ground, and the time occupied by Sullivan in 
making a wide circuit in bringing his brigade to its assigned 
place in the line, he was not fully prepared for action when 
the refreshed and well-formed battalions of the enemy, 
under Cornwallis, came sweeping on from Osborne's Hill, 
and commenced a furious attack. The advanced guard were 
German troops. On arriving at the Street road, they were 
fired upon by a company of Americans stationed in an 
orchard north of Samuel Jones's brick dwelling-house. The 
Hessians returned the fire, and the action soon became gen- 
eral. The artillery of both armies opened with terrible 
effect; and while the Americans maintained their position, 
the carnage was great. The most indomitable courage was 
displayed, and for a while the result was doubtful. The 
Americans, many of them unskilful militia, repelled charge 
after charge of the well-disciplined infantry, chasseurs, 
grenadiers, and guards of the enemy, until overwhelming 
numbers obliged them to yield. The right wing of the 
Americans, under General Deborre, first gave way, and 
the left, under Sullivan, soon followed. The latter officer 
used every exertion to rally the flying troops, but in vain. 
In broken fragments they fled over the fields toward the 
main division of the army at Chad's Ford. The centre 
division (Stirling's brigade), in which was General Con- 
way, with eight hundred men, yet remained firm as a rock 
in the midst of the wild ocean of carnage. To this divi- 
sion Sullivan now attached himself, and, with Stirling and 
Lafayette, engaged personally in the hottest of the battle. 
To this point Cornwallis directed his energies. His artil- 
lery made dreadful breaches in their ranks, and strewed 



Il8 THE BRANDYWINE 

the earth with the slain. Resistance was vain, and, when 
hope no longer encouraged the contending patriots of the 
centre, they, too, wheeled, and joined their comrades in 
their flight. Two of Sullivan's aides were killed; and La- 
fayette, who had leaped from his horse, and, sword in 
hand, was endeavouring to rally the yielding patriots, was 
wounded in the leg by a musket-ball, and fell. Gimat, his 
aide, helped him on a horse, and he escaped. Despair 
seized the troops, and every effort to rally them was, for 
a time, vain. They fled to the woods in the rear, pursued 
by the victorious enemy. Some of them were rallied half 
a mile northward of Dilworth, and a brief encounter en- 
sued between the fugitives and the pursuing party of the 
left wing of the enemy. The conflict was short, and the 
Americans again fled. The British right wing got en- 
tangled in the woods, and did not participate in the subse- 
quent engagement, when Greene checked the pursuers. 

On receiving intelligence of the approach of the British, 
Washington, with Greene's division of Virginians and 
Pennsylvanians, pushed forward to the support of Sullivan, 
leaving General Wayne at Chad's Ford to oppose the pas- 
sage of Knyphausen. When the first cannon-peals from 
the Birmingham meeting-house broke over the country, 
Greene pressed forward to the support of the right wing. 
His first brigade, under General Weedon, took the lead, 
and so rapid was their march that they travelled four 
miles in forty minutes. Between Dilworth and the meet- 
ing-house they met the flying Americans, closely pursued 
by the British. Greene, by a skillful movement, opened 
his ranks and received the fugitives, then, closing them 
again, he covered their retreat and checked the pursuers by 
a continual fire of artillery. At a narrow defile about a 
mile from the meeting-house, in the direction of Chester, 
flanked on each side by woods, he changed his front, faced 



THE BRANDYWINE 119 

the enemy, and kept them at bay while the retreating party 
rested and formed in his rear. Greene defended this pass 
with great skill and bravery until twilight, when the pur- 
suers encamped for the night. In this defence the brigades 
of Weedon and Muhlenberg were greatly distinguished, 
particularly the Tenth Virginia Regiment, under Colonel 
Stevens, and a Pennsylvania regiment, under Colonel 
Stewart. 

We have observed that the plan of the enemy was to 
attack the Americans front and rear at the same time, by 
Cornwallis gaining the right flank of the patriots, and 
Knyphausen crossing the Brandywine at Chad's Ford. The 
firing of heavy guns on the American right was to be the 
signal for the German general to ford the stream. When 
the firing commenced at the Birmingham meeting-house, 
Knyphausen observed the departure of Greene's division, 
and the consequent weakening of the defence of the pas- 
sage of the river. He immediately made a proper disposi- 
tion of his troops for crossing. Wayne was on the alert, 
and, the moment Knyphausen's forces moved forward, he 
opened upon him a heavy fire of artillery from his intrench- 
ments and the battery near Chad's house. Although in no 
condition to oppose nearly one-half of the British army, he 
stood firm at first, and gallantly confronted the heavy and 
steadily progressing columns. But on receiving intelligence 
of the defeat of Sullivan at Birmingham meeting-house, and 
discovering that a considerable force of the enemy, who had 
penetrated the woods, were coming out upon his flank, 
Wayne ordered a retreat. This was accomplished in great 
disorder, leaving his artillery and munitions of war in the 
hands of Knyphausen. They retreated, in broken columns 
and confused fragments, behind the division of General 
Greene, then gallantly defending the pass near Dilworth, 
and joined the other defeated troops. The approach of 



120 THE BRANDYWINE 

night ended the whole conflict. The Americans retreated 
to Chester that night, where they rendezvoused, and the 
next day marched toward Philadelphia, and encamped near 
Germantown. General Armstrong, who was stationed at 
Pyle's Ford, had no opportunity to engage in the action. 
The British remained upon the field, near Dilworth, Howe 
taking up his quarters at Gilpin's, a few miles from Chad's 
Ford. 

Military men, when considering the battle of Brandy- 
wine, have questioned the judgment of Washington in 
incurring the great risk incident to a disparity in numbers 
and discipline. The numbers engaged in the action have 
never been accurately ascertained. The British effective 
force, on the day of the battle, was probably not less than 
seventeen thousand men, while that of the Americans did 
not exceed eleven thousand, and many of these were raw 
militia. Washington was aware of the expectations of 
Congress and the whole country, and wisely considered that 
a defeat in battle would be less depressing upon the minds 
of the soldiers and the people, than permitting the enemy 
to march, without opposition, to the capture of Philadel- 
phia, then the political metropolis of America. Influenced 
by these considerations, he resolved to fight the enemy; and 
had not conflicting intelligence perplexed and thwarted him 
in his plans, it is probable that victor)' would have crowned 
the American army. The result was disastrous, and many 
noble patriots slept their last sleep upon the battlefield that 
night. 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 
JARED SPARKS 

THE first Europeans who are certainly known to 
have discovered and explored this river, were two 
Frenchmen, Father Marquette and M. Joliet, in the year 
1673. Marquette was a native of Picardy, and Charle- 
voix calls him " one of the most illustrious missionaries of 
New France," adding that he travelled widely, and made 
many discoveries besides that of the Mississippi. He had 
resided some time in Canada, and attained a proficiency in 
the languages of the principal native tribes, who resided in 
the regions bordering on the Upper Lakes. The first set- 
tlement of the old town of Michillimackinac, in 1 67 1, is 
ascribed to his exertions and influences. 

The Indians had given many accounts of a great river at 
the West, which flowed southwardly, and which they called 
Mississipy, as the word is written by Marquette. It be- 
came a matter of curious speculation, what course the river 
pursued, and at what place it disembouged itself into the 
sea. There were three opinions on this subject. First, that 
it ran towards the southwest, and entered the Gulf of Cali- 
fornia; secondly, that it flowed into the Gulf of Mexico; 
and thirdly, that it found its way in a more easterly direc- 
tion, and discharged itself into the Atlantic Ocean some- 
where on the coast of Virginia. The question was not less 
important in a commercial and political view, than inter- 
esting as a geographical problem. 

To establish this point, and to make such other dis- 
coveries as opportunities would admit, M. de Frontenac, 

121 



122 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

the Governor of Canada, encouraged an expedition to be 
undertaken. The persons to whom it was intrusted were 
M. Joliet, then residing at Quebec, and Father Marquette, 
who was at Michillimackinac. or in the vicinity of that 
place. Marquette wrote an account of his tour and voy- 
age down the Mississippi, which was sent to France, and 
published eight years afterwards in Paris. From this ac- 
count the following particulars are chiefly taken. In some 
parts the translation is nearly literal, and all the prominent 
facts are retained. 

On the 13th of May, 1673, Father Marquette and M. 
Joliet, with five other Frenchmen, embarked in two canoes, 
with a small provision of Indian corn and smoked meat, 
having previously acquired from the Indians all the intel- 
ligence they could afford respecting their proposed route. 

The first nation through which they passed, was the 
Follts Avoines (Wild Rice), so called from the grain of 
that name, which abounds in the rivers and marshy lands. 
This plant is described as growing about two feet above 
the water, resembling European oats, and gathered by the 
savages during the month of September. The ears are 
dried, separated from the chaff, and prepared for food 
either by pounding into meal, or simply boiling the grain 
in water. 

The natives, having been made acquainted by Father 
Marquette with his design of visiting the most remote 
nations and preaching to them the Gospel, did their utmost 
to dissuade him from it. representing the cruelty of some 
of the tribes, and their warlike state, the dangerous naviga- 
tion of the river, the dreadful monsters that were found 
in it, and, finally, the excessive heat of the climate. 

He thanked them for their good advice, but declined 
following it; assuring them that, to secure the success of 
his undertaking, he would gladly give his life; that he felt 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 123 

no fear of the monsters they described ; and that their 
information would only oblige him to keep more on his 
guard against surprise. After having prayed, and given 
them some instructions, he parted from them, and arrived 
at the Bay of Puans, now called Green Bay, where consid- 
erable progress had been made by the French priests in the 
conversion of the Indians. 

The name of this bay has a less unpleasant meaning in 
the Indian, than in the French language, signifying also 
salt bay, which induced Father Marquette to make strict 
researches for salt springs in this vicinity, but without suc- 
cess. He concluded, therefore, that the name was given to 
it in consequence of the ooze and mud, deposited there, 
from whence, as he thought, arise vapours that produce 
frequent and violent thunder-storms. He speaks of this bay 
as about thirty leagues long, and eight leagues wide at its 
entrance, gradually contracting towards its head, where the 
flux and reflux of the tides, much like those of the sea, 
may be easily observed. 

Leaving this bay, they ascended the river, since known 
as Fox River, that empties into it. At its mouth, he says, 
the river is broad and deep, and flows gently; but, as you 
advance, its course is interrupted by rapids and rocks; which 
he passed, however, in safety. It abounds with bustards, 
ducks, and teal, attracted by the wild rice, which grows 
there. Approaching the village of Maskoutins, or Nation 
of Fire, he had the curiosity to taste the mineral water of 
a stream in its vicinity. The village consisted of three 
several nations, namely, Miamis, Maskoutins, and Kika- 
beaux. The first were the most friendly and liberal, and 
the finest-looking men. Their hair was long over their 
ears. They were good warriors, sucessful in their expedi- 
tions, docile, and fond of instruction. They were so eager 
to listen to Father Allonezo, when he was among them, that 



124 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

they allowed him no repose, even in the night. The Mas- 
kontins and Kikabeaux were coarser, and less civilized; 
their wigwams were constructed of rushes (birch bark 
being scarce in this country), and might be Tolled up in 
bundles and carried where they pleased. 

In visiting these people, Father Marquette was much 
gratified at seeing a large cross erected in the centre of the 
village, decorated with thank offerings to the Great Spirit, 
for their success during the last winter. The situation of 
the village was striking and beautiful, it being built on an 
eminence, whence the eye overlooked on all sides a bound- 
less extent of prairie, interspersed with groves and forests. 
The soil was good, producing abundantly Indian corn, 
grapes, and plums. 

Immediately on their arrival, Father Marquette and M. 
Joliet assembled the chiefs, and explained to them the ob- 
jects of their expedition, expressing their determination to 
proceed at all risks, and making them some presents. They 
requested the assistance of two guides, to put them in their 
way; which request the natives readily granted, returning 
for their presents a mat, which served them as a bed dur- 
ing the voyage. The next day, being the ioth of June, the 
two Miamis, their guides, embarked with them in sight of 
all the inhabitants of the village, who looked with aston- 
ishment on the hardihood of seven Frenchmen in under- 
taking such an expedition. 

They knew that within three leagues of the Maskoutins 
was a river which discharged itself into the Mississippi; 
and further, that their course must be west southwest; but 
so many marshes and small lakes intervened, that the route 
was intricate; the more so, as the river was overgrown 
with wild rice, which obstructed the channel to such a 
degree that it was difficult to follow it. On this account 
their guides were necessary, who conducted them safely to 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 125 

a portage, which was about two thousand seven hundred 
paces across. The guides aided them in transporting their 
canoes over the portage to the river, which ran towards the 
west, and. then they left them and returned. 

The travellers quitted the waters, which flow towards 
Quebec, five or six hundred leagues from that place, and 
embarked on an unknown stream. This river was called 
Mesconsin (Wisconsin). It was very broad, but its bot- 
tom was sandy, and the navigation was rendered difficult by 
the shoals. It was full of islands, overgrown with vines; 
and the fertile banks through which it flowed were inter- 
spersed with woods, prairies, and groves of nut, oak, and 
other trees. Numbers of bucks and buffaloes were seen, 
but no other animals. Within thirty leagues of their place 
of embarkation, they found iron mines, which appeared 
abundant and of good quality. After continuing their 
route for forty leagues, they arrived at the mouth of the 
river, in forty-two degrees and a half of latitude; and on 
the 17th of June, they entered with great joy the waters 
of the Mississippi. 

This river derives its source from several lakes in the 
north. At the mouth of the Mesconsin its channel was 
narrow, and it flowed onwards with a gentle current. On 
the right was seen a chain of high mountains, and on the left 
fertile fields interrupted by islands in many places. They 
slowly followed the course of the stream to the south and 
southwest, until, in forty-two degrees of latitude, they per- 
ceived a sensible change in the surrounding country. There 
were but few hills and forests. The islands were covered 
with beautiful trees. 

From the time of leaving their guides, they descended 
the two rivers more than one hundred leagues, without 
discovering any other inhabitants of the forests, than birds 
and beasts. They were always on their guard, kindling a 



126 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

fire on the shore towards evening, to cook their food, and 
afterwards anchoring their canoes in the middle of the 
stream during the night. They proceeded thus for more 
than sixty leagues from the place where they entered the 
Mississippi, when, on the 25th of June, they perceived on 
the bank of the river the footsteps of men, and a well- 
beaten path leading into a beautiful prairie. They landed, 
and, leaving the canoes under the guard of their boatmen, 
Father Marquette and M. Joliet set forth to make discov- 
eries. After silently following the path for about two 
leagues, they perceived a village, situate on the margin of 
a river, and two others on a hill, within half a league of 
the first. As they approached nearer they gave notice of 
their arrival by a loud call. Hearing the noise, the Indians 
came out of their cabins, and, having looked at the strangers 
for a while, they deputed four of their elders to talk with 
them, who slowly advanced. Two of them brought pipes 
ornamented with feathers, which, without speaking, they 
elevated towards the sun, as a token of friendship. Gain- 
ing assurance from this ceremony, Father Marquette ad- 
dressed them, inquiring of what nation they were. They 
answered that they were Illinois, and, offering their pipes, 
invited the strangers to enter the village, where they were 
received with every mark of attention, conducted to the 
cabin of the chief, and complimented on their arrival by 
the natives, who gathered round them, gazing in silence. 

After they were seated, the calumet was presented to 
them, and, while the old men were smoking for their enter- 
tainment, the chief of all the Illinois tribes sent them an 
invitation to attend a council at his village. They were 
treated by him with great kindness, and Father Marquette, 
having explained to him the motives of this voyage, en- 
forcing each part of his speeech with a present, the chief in 
reply expressed his approbation; but urged him, in the name 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 127 

of the whole nation, not to incur the risks of a further 
voyage, and rewarded his presents by the gift of a calumet. 

The council was followed by a feast, consisting of four 
courses, from each of which they were fed with much cere- 
mony; and afterwards they were conducted in state through 
the village, receiving many presents of girdles and garters 
from the natives. The following day they took leave of 
the chief, promising to return in four moons, and were 
accompanied to their canoes, with every demonstration of 
joy, by more than six hundred savages. 

Before leaving this nation, Father Marquette remarked 
some of their peculiarities. The name Illinois, in the na- 
tive language, signifies men, as if implying thereby, that 
other tribes are brutes in comparison, which in some sense 
Father Marquette thought to be true, as they were more 
civilized than most of the tribes. Their language, on the 
borders of the river, was a dialect of the Algonquin, and 
was understood by Father Marquette. In the form of 
their bodies the Illinois were light and active. They were 
skilful in the use of arms, brave, but wild and tractable in 
disposition. They were entirely ignorant of the use of 
leather, and iron tools, their weapons being made of stone, 
and their clothing of the skins of wild beasts. The soil 
was rich and productive, and game abundant. 

After this peaceful interview with the natives, the voy- 
agers embarked again, and passed down the stream, looking 
out for the river Pekitanoni (Missouri), which empties into 
the Mississippi from the northwest. They observed high 
and steep rocks, on the face of which were the figures of 
two monsters, which appeared as if painted in green, red, 
and blue colours; frightful in appearance, but so well exe- 
cuted as to leave Father Marquette in doubt whether they 
could be the work of savages, they being also at so great a 
height on the rocks as to be inaccessible to a painter. 



128 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

As they floated quietly down a clear and placid stream, 
conversing about the figures they had just passed, they 
were interrupted by the sound of rapids before them; and a 
mass of floating timber, trunks and branches of trees, was 
swept from the mouth of the Pekitanoni with such a degree 
of violence, as to render the passage dangerous. So great 
was the agitation, that the water was thereby made very 
muddy, and it did not again become clear. The Pekitanoni 
is described as a large river flowing into the Mississippi 
from the northwest, with several villages on its banks. 

At this place Father Marquette decided, that unless the 
Mississippi altered its previous course it must empty its 
waters into the Gulf of Mexico; and he conjectured from 
the accounts of the natives that, by following the stream 
of the Pekitanoni, a river would be discovered, which 
flowed into the Gulf of California. 

About twenty leagues south of the Pekitanoni, and a 
little more to the southeast, they discovered the mouth of 
another river, called Ouabouskigou (Ohio), in the lati- 
tude of thirty-six degrees; a short distance above which, 
they came to a place formidable to the savages, who, believ- 
ing it the residence of a demon, had warned Father Mar- 
quette of its dangers. It proved nothing more than a ledge 
of rocks, thirty feet high, against which the waves, being 
contracted by an island, ran with violence, and, being 
thrown back with a loud noise, flowed rapidly on through 
a narrow and unsafe channel. 

The Ouabouskigou came from the eastward, where the 
country was thickly inhabited by the tribe of Chuouanons, 
a harmless and peaceful people, much annoyed by the Iro- 
quois, who were said to capture them as slaves, and kill and 
torture them cruelly. 

A little above the entrance of this river were steep banks, 
in which the boatmen discovered iron ore, several veins of 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 129 

which were visible, about a foot in thickness, portions of it 
adhering to the flint-stones; and also a species of rich earth, 
of three different colours, namely, purple, violet, and red, 
and a very heavy red sand, some of which, being laid on 
an oar, left a stain during fifteen days. They here first 
saw tall reeds, or canes, growing on the shores, and began 
to find the maringouins (mosquitoes) very troublesome; the 
attacks of which, with the heat of the weather, obliged the 
voyagers to construct an awning of the sails of their 
canoes. 

Shortly afterwards they saw savages armed with muskets, 
waiting their approach on the bank of the river. While 
the boatmen prepared for a defence, Father Marquette 
presented his calumet, and addressed them in Huron, to 
which they gave no answer, but made signals to them to 
land, and accept some food. They consequently disem- 
barked, and, entering their cabins, were presented with 
buffalo's meat, bear's oil, and fine plums. These savages 
had guns, hatchets, knives, hoes, and glass bottles for their 
gunpowder. They informed Father Marquette that he 
was within ten days' journey of the sea; that they pur- 
chased their goods of Europeans, who came from the east; 
that these Europeans had images and beads, played on many 
instruments, and were dressed like himself; and that they 
had treated them with much kindness. As they had no 
knowledge of Christianity, the worthy Father gave them 
what instruction he could, and made them a present of 
some medals. Encouraged by the information received 
from these savages, the party proceeded with renewed ar- 
dour on their voyage, between banks covered with thick 
forests, that intercepted their view of the prairies; in which, 
however, they heard at no great distance the bellowing of 
buffaloes. They also saw quails upon the shores, and shot 
a small parrot. 



130 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

They had nearly reached the thirty-third degree of lati- 
tude, steering towards the south, when they discovered a 
village on the river's side, called Metchigamea. The na- 
tives, armed with bows and arrows, clubs, and tomahawks, 
prepared to attack them; some in canoes, trying to inter- 
cept their course, others remaining on shore. Father Mar- 
quette in vain presented his calumet of peace. They were 
ready to attack, when the elders, perceiving at last the 
calumet, commanded the young warriors to stop, and, 
throwing their arms at the feet of the strangers, as a sign 
of peace, entered their canoes, and constrained them to 
land, though not without some uneasiness. 

As the savages were not acquainted with any of the six 
languages spoken by Father Marquette, he addressed them 
by signs, until an old man was found who understood a 
little Illinois. Through this interpreter, he explained their 
intention of going to the borders of the sea, and gave the 
natives some religious instruction. In reply they answered, 
that whatever information he desired might be obtained at 
Akamsca (Arkansas), a village ten leagues lower down 
the river; and presented them with food. After passing a 
night of some anxiety, they embarked the following morn- 
ing with the interpreter; a canoe with ten savages preced- 
ing them. About half a league from Akamsca, they were 
met by two canoes full of Indians, the chief of whom pre- 
sented his calumet, and conducted them to the shore, where 
they were hospitably received and supplied with provisions. 
Here they found a young man well acquainted with the 
Illinois language, and through him Father Marquette ad- 
dressed the natives, making them the usual presents, and 
requesting information from them respecting the sea. They 
answered, that it was within five days' journey of Akamsca; 
that they knew nothing of the inhabitants on its borders, 
being prevented by their enemies from holding intercourse 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 131 

with these Europeans; that their knives and other weapons 
were purchased partly from the eastern nations, and partly 
from a tribe of Illinois, four days' journey to the eastward ; 
that the armed savages, whom the travellers had met, were 
their enemies; that they were continually on the river be- 
tween that place and the sea; and that, if the voyagers pro- 
ceeded further, great danger might be apprehended from 
them. After this communication, food was offered, and the 
rest of the day was spent in feasting. 

These people were friendly and hospitable, but poor, 
although their Indian corn produced three abundant crops 
in a year, which Father Marquette saw in its different 
stages of growth. It was prepared for food in pots, which, 
with plates and other utensils, were neatly made of baked 
earth by the Indians. Their language was so very diffi- 
cult, that Father Marquette despaired of being able to pro- 
nounce a word of it. Their climate in winter was rainy, 
but they had no snow, and the soil was extremely fertile. 

During the evening the old men held a secret council. 
Some of them proposed to murder the strangers, and seize 
their effects. The chief, however, overruled this advice, 
and, sending for Father Marquette and M. Joliet, invited 
them to attend a dance of the calumet, which he after- 
wards presented to them as a sign of peace. 

The good Father and his companion began now to con- 
sider what further course they should pursue. As it was 
supposed that the Gulf of Mexico extended as far north 
as thirty-one degrees and forty minutes, they believed them- 
selves not to be more than two or three days' journey from 
it; and it appeared to them certain that the Mississippi 
must empty itself into that gulf, and not into the sea 
through Virginia, at the eastward, because the coast of 
Virginia was in the latitude of thirty-four degrees, at which 
they had already arrived; nor yet into the Gulf of Cali- 



132 THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 

fornia, at the southwest, because they had found the course 
of the river to be invariably south. Being thus persuaded 
that the main object of their expedition was attained, and 
considering, moreover, that they were unable to resist the 
armed savages, who infested the lower parts of the river, 
and that, should they fall into the hands of the Spaniards, 
the fruits of their voyage and discoveries would be lost, 
they resolved to proceed no further, and, having informed 
the natives of their determination, and rested another day, 
they prepared for their return. 

After a month's navigation on the Mississippi, having 
followed its course from the forty-second to the thirty- 
fourth degree of latitude, they left the village of Akamsca, 
on the 17th of July, to return up the river. They retraced 
their way, slowly ascending the stream, until, in about the 
thirty-eighth degree of latitude, they turned into another 
river (Illinois), which abridged their route and brought 
them directly to Lake Illinois (Michigan). They were 
struck with the fertility of the country through which that 
river flowed, the beauty of the forests and prairies, the 
variety of the game, and the numerous small lakes and 
streams which they saw. The river was broad and deep, 
and navigable for sixty-five leagues, there being, in the 
season of spring and part of the summer, only half a 
league of portage between its waters and those flowing into 
Lake Illinois. On its banks they found a village, the in- 
habitants of which received them kindly, and, on their de- 
parture, extorted a promise from Father Marquette to re- 
turn and instruct them. One of the chiefs, accompanied 
by the young men, conducted them as far as the Lake; 
whence they proceeded to the Bay of Puans, where they 
arrived near the end of September, having been absent 
about four months. 

Such is the substance of Father Marquette's narrative; 



THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 133 

and the whole of it accords remarkably with the descrip- 
tions of subsequent travellers, and with the actual features 
of the country through which he passed, as to remove every 
doubt of its genuineness. The melancholy fate of the 
author, which followed soon afterwards, was probably the 
reason why his expedition was not in a more conspicuous 
manner brought before the public. 

In addition to this narrative, nothing is known of Mar- 
quette, except what is said of him by Charlevoix. After 
returning from his last expedition, he took up his residence, 
and pursued the vocation of a missionary, among the Mi- 
amis in the neighbourhood of Chicago. While passing by 
water along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan towards 
Michillimackinac, he entered a small river, on the 18th 
of May, 1675. Having landed, he constructed an altar, 
performed mass, and then retired a short distance into the 
wood, requesting the two men who had charge of his 
canoe, to leave him alone for half an hour. When the 
time had elapsed, the men went to seek for him and found 
him dead. They were greatly surprised, as they had not 
discovered any symptoms of illness; but they remembered, 
that, when he was entering the river, he expressed a presen- 
timent that his voyage would end there. To this day the 
river retains the name of Marquette. The place of his 
grave, near its bank, is still pointed out to the traveller; 
but his remains were removed the year after his death to 
Michillimackinac. 



CHICAGO 

GEORGE W. STEEVENS 

CHICAGO! Chicago! queen and guttersnipe of cities, 
cynosure and cesspool of the world! Not if I had a 
hundred tongues, every one shouting a different language 
in a different key, could I do justice to her splendid chaos. 
The most beautiful and the most squalid, girdled with a two- 
fold zone of parks and slums, where the keen air from lake 
and prairie is ever in the nostrils and the stench of foul 
smoke is never out of the throat; the great port a thousand 
miles from the sea; the great mart which gathers up with 
one hand the corn and cattle of the West and deals out with 
the other the merchandise of the East; widely and gener- 
ously planned with streets of twenty miles, where it is 
not safe to walk at night; where women ride straddlewise, 
and millionaires dine at midday on the Sabbath ; the chosen 
seat of public spirit and municipal boodle, of cut-throat com- 
merce and munificent patronage of art; the most American 
of American cities, and yet the most mongrel ; the second 
American city of the globe, the fifth German city, the third, 
Swedish, the second Polish, the first and only veritable Babel 
of the age; all of which was in 1871 a heap of smoking ashes. 
Where in all the world can words be found for this miracle 
of paradox and incongruity? 

Go first up on the tower of the Auditorium. In front, 
near three hundred feet below, lies Lake Michigan. There 
are lines of breakwater and a lighthouse inshore, where the 
water is grey and brown, but beyond and on either hand 
to the rim spreads the brilliant azure of deep water — the 

134 




MADISON STREET FROM FIFTH AVENUE, CHICAGO 



CHICAGO 135 

bosom of a lake which is also a sea shining in the transparent 
sunlight. White sails speckle its surface, and far out ocean- 
going steamers trail lazy streaks of smoke behind them. 
From the lake blow winds now soft and life-giving like old 
wine, now so keen as to set every nerve and sinew on the 
stretch. Then turn round and look at Chicago. You might 
be on a central peak of the high Alps. All about you they 
rise, the mountains of building — not in the broken line of 
New York, but thick together, side by side, one behind the 
other. From this height the flat roofs of the ordinary build- 
ings of four or five storeys are not distinguishable from the 
ground ; planting their feet on these rise the serried ranks 
of the heaven-scaling peaks. You are almost surprised to see 
no snow on them; the steam that gushes perpetually from 
their chimneys, and floats and curls away on the lake breeze, 
might well be clouds with the summits rising above them to 
the sun. Height on height they stretch away on every side 
till they are lost in a cloud of murky smoke inland. These 
buildings are all iron-cored, and the masonry is only the 
shells that cases the rooms in them. They can even be 
built downward. You may see one of them with eight sto- 
reys of brick wall above, and then four of a vacant skeleton 
of girders below; the superstructure seems to be hanging in 
air. Broader and more massive than the tall buildings of 
New York, older also and dingier, they do not appear, like 
them, simply boxes of windows. Who would suppose that 
mere lumps of iron and bricks and mortar could be sublime? 
Yet these are sublime and almost awful. You have awak- 
ened, like Gulliver, in a land of giants — a land where the 
very houses are instinct with almost ferocious energy and 
force. 

Then go out on a cable car or the electric car or the ele- 
vated railroad — Chicago has them all, and is installing new 
ones with feverish industry every day — to the parks and the 



136 CHICAGO 

boulevards. Along Lake Shore Drive you will find the homes 
of the great merchants, the makers of Chicago. Many of 
these are built in a style which is peculiarly Chicago's own, 
though the best examples of it are to be seen in the business 
centre of the city. It uses great blocks of rough-hewn gran- 
ite, red or grey. Their massive weight is relieved by wide 
round arches for doors and windows, by porches and por- 
ticos, loggias and galleries, over the whole face of the build- 
ing from top to bottom. The effect is almost prehistoric in 
its massive simplicity, something like the Cyclopean ruins of 
Mycense or Tiryns. The great stores with the open arches 
and galleries make up a combination of solid strength and 
breeziness, admirably typical of the spirit of the place. On 
the other side of the Drive is the blue expanse of Lake; in 
between, broad roads and ribbons of fresh grass. Yet here 
and there, among the castles of the magnates, you will come 
on a little one-storeyed wooden shanty, squatting many feet 
below the level of the road, paint and washed-out playbills 
peeling off it, and the broken windows hanging in shreds. 
Then again will come a patch of empty scrubby waste, 
choked with rank weeds and rubble. It is the same thing 
with the carriages in which the millionaires and their fami- 
lies drive up and down after church on Sunday. They are 
gorgeously built and magnificently horsed, only the coach- 
man is humping his back or the footman is crossing his legs. 
These are trivialities, but not altogether insignificant. The 
desire to turn out in style is there, and the failure in a little 
thing betrays a carelessness of detail, an incapacity for order 
and proportion, which are of the essence of Chicago. Never 
was a better found vessel spoiled for a ha'porth of tar. 

It will be well worth your while again to go south to 
Washington Park and Jackson Park, where the World's 
Fair was held. Chicago, straggling over a hundred and 
eighty-six square miles, was rather a tract of houses than an 



CHICAGO 137 

organic city until somebody conceived the idea of coupling 
her up with a ring of parks connected by planted boulevards. 
The southern end of the system rests on the Lake at these 
two parks. Chicago believes that her parks are unsurpassed 
in the world, and certainly they will be prodigiously fine — 
when they are finished. Broad drives and winding alleys, 
ornamental trees, banks and beds of flowers and flowering 
shrubs, lakes, and ornamental bridges, and turf that cools 
the eye under the fiercest noon — you bet your life Chicago's 
got 'em all. Also Chicago has the Art Building, which is 
the one remaining relic of the World's Fair, and surely as 
divinely proportioned an edifice as ever filled and satisfied 
the eye of man. And always beyond it is the Lake. Seem- 
ing in places almost to rise above the level of the land, it 
stretches along the whole western side, so that Chicago is 
perhaps the only one of the world's greatest cities that is 
really built along a sea-line. Sparkling under the sun by 
day, or black beneath a fretwork of stars by night, it is a 
perpetual reminder that there is that in nature even greater 
and more immeasurable than the activities of Chicago. 

The Art Building aforesaid is now the Field Columbian 
Museum, having been endowed by a leading citizen of that 
name with a cool million dollars. Other gifts, with divi- 
dends contributed by holders of exhibition stock, brought up 
the total to half as much again. Chicago has a University 
hard by, which has come out westward, like Mahomet to 
the mountain, to spread the light among the twenty-five mil- 
lion souls that live within a morning's journey of Chicago. 
This University has not been long in existence; in a short 
time it has received in benefactions from citizens of this place 
nearly twelve million dollars. Think of it, depressed Oxford 
and Cambridge — a University endowed at the rate of half a 
million sterling a year! Two other prominent Chicago men 
found themselves in Paris a while ago, when a collection of 



138 CHICAGO 

pictures were being sold; promptly they bought up a hun- 
dred and eighty thousand dollars' worth for the gallery of 
their city. There is hardly a leading name in the business of 
the place but is to be found beneath a picture given or lent 
to this gallery. And mark that not only does the untutored 
millionaire buy pictures, but his untutored operative goes to 
look at them. It is the same impulse that leads school teach- 
ers of sixty to put in a course at the University during their 
summer vacation. Chicago is conscious that there is some- 
thing in the world, some sense of form, of elegance, of re- 
finement, that with all her corn and railways, her hogs and 
by-products, and dollars, she lacks. She does not quite 
know what it is, but she is determined to have it, cost what it 
may. 

Mr. Phil D. Armour, the hog king, giving a picture to 
the gallery, and his slaughter-house man painfully spelling 
out the description of it on Sunday afternoon — there is 
something rather pathetic in this, and assuredly something 
very noble. 

But there is another side to Chicago. There is the back 
side to her fifteen hundred million dollars of trade, her 
seventeen thousand vessels, and her network of ninety thou- 
sand miles of rail. Away from the towering offices, lying 
off from the smiling parks, is a vast wilderness of shabby 
houses — a larger and more desolate Whitechapel than can 
hardly have a parallel for sordid dreariness in the whole 
world. This is the home of labour, and of nothing else. 
The evening's vacancy brings relief from toil, the morn- 
ing's toil relief from vacancy. Little shops compete fran- 
tically for what poor trade there is with tawdry adver- 
tisements. Street stretches beyond street of little houses, 
mostly wooden, begrimed with soot, rotting, falling to 
pieces. The pathways are of rickety and worm-eaten 
planks, such as we would not tolerate a day in London as 



CHICAGO 139 

a temporary gangway where a house is being built. Here 
the boarding is flush with the street; there it drops to it 
in a two-foot precipice, over which you might easily break 
your leg. The streets are quagmires of black mud, and 
no attempt is made to repair them. They are miserably 
lighted, and nobody thinks of illuminating them. The 
police force is so weak that men and women are held up 
and robbed almost nightly within the city limits; nobody 
thinks of strengthening it. Here and there is a pit or a 
dark cellar left wholly unguarded for the unwary foot- 
passenger to break his neck in. All these miles of un- 
kempt slum and wilderness betray a disregard for human 
life which is more than half barbarous. If you come to 
your death by misadventure among these pitfalls, all the 
consolation your friends will get from Chicago is to be told 
that you ought to have taken better care of yourself. You 
were unfit; you did not survive. There is no more to be 
said about it. 

The truth is that nobody in this rushing, struggling 
tumult has any time to look after what we have long ago 
come to think the bare decencies of civilization. This man 
is in a hurry to work up his tallow, that man to ship his 
grain. Everybody is fighting to be rich, is then straining 
to be refined, and nobody can attend to making the city 
fit to live in. I have remarked several times before that 
America is everywhere still unfinished, and unless the char- 
acter of the people modifies itself with time I do not be- 
lieve it ever will be. They go half-way to build up civil- 
ization in the desert, and then they are satisfied and rush 
forward to half-civilize some place further on. It is not 
that they are incapable of thoroughness, but that in cer- 
tain things they do not feel the need of it. In Chicago 
there is added to this what looks like a fundamental inca- 
pacity for government. A little public interest and a 



I 4 CHICAGO 

small public rate would put everything right; both are 
wanting. Wealth every man will struggle for, and even 
elegance; good government is the business of nobody. 

For if Chicago is the lodestone that attracts the enter- 
prise and commercial talent of two hemispheres, it is also 
the sink into which drain their dregs. The hundred and 
twenty thousand Irish are not a wholesome element in 
municipal life. On the bleak west side there are streets of 
illiterate, turbulent Poles and Czechs, hardly able to speak 
a word of English. Out of this rude and undigested mass, 
how could good government come? How could citizens 
combine to work out for themselves a common ideal of 
rational and ordered civic life? However, Chicago is now 
setting her house in order. It is thought a great step for- 
ward that there are now actually one-third of the members 
of the municipal body who can be relied upon to refuse a 
bribe. Some day Chicago will turn her savage energy to 
order and co-operation. Instead of a casual horde of jos- 
tling individuals, she will become a city of citizens. She 
will learn that freedom does not consist solely in contempt 
for law. On the day she realizes this she will become the 
greatest, as already she is the most amazing, community 
in the world. 



BOSTON HARBOUR 

CHARLES KNIGHT 

IT was Sunday, the 28th day of November, 1773, when 
there sailed into Boston Harbour the English merchant 
ship Dartmouth, laden with chests of tea belonging to the 
East India Company. The Act of Parliament which al- 
lowed the Treasury to license vessels to export the teas of 
the Company to the American colonies free of duty was 
the signal for popular gatherings in Boston. Samuel 
Adams, in the Boston Gazette, roused again that feeling of 
resistance which had partially subsided. The Governor of 
Massachusetts, in October, wrote to Lord Dartmouth, who 
had succeeded Lord Hillsborough as Colonial Secretary, 
that Samuel Adams, " who was the first person that openly, 
and in any public assembly, declared for a total indepen- 
dence," had " obtained such an ascendency as to direct the 
town of Boston and the House of Representatives, and con- 
sequently the Council, just as he pleases." The East India 
Company had appointed its consignees in Boston. On the 
night of the 2d of November, summonses were left at the 
houses of each of these persons, requiring them to appear on a 
certain day at Liberty Tree, to resign their commissions ; and 
notices were issued desiring the freemen of Boston and of the 
neighbouring towns to assemble at the same place. The con- 
signees did not appear; but a committee of the Assembly 
traced them to a warehouse, where they were met to con- 
sult. They were required not to sell the teas; but to re- 
turn them to London by the vessels which might bring them. 
They refused to comply, and were denounced as enemies 

141 



142 BOSTON HARBOUR 

to their country. Philadelphia had previously compelled 
the agents of the Company to resign their appointments. 
Town meetings were held at Boston, when strong resolu- 
tions were adopted. 

In this state of things, on that Sunday, the 28th of No- 
vember, the first tea-ship arrived. The New England colo- 
nists preserved that strict observance of the Sabbath which 
their Puritan fathers felt the highest of duties. But it was 
a work of necessity to impede the landing of the tea; and a 
committee met twice on that Sunday to concert measures. 
They obtained a promise from Rotch, the commander of the 
ship Dartmouth, that his vessel should not be entered till the 
following Tuesday. On Monday, the Committee of all 
the neighbouring towns assembled at Boston ; and five thou- 
sand persons agreed that the tea should be sent back to the 
place whence it came. " Throw it overboard," cried one. 
The consignees, alarmed at this demonstration, declared that 
they would not send back the teas, but that they would 
store them. This proposal was received with scorn, — and 
then the consignees agreed that the teas should not be landed. 
But there was a legal difficulty. If the rest of the cargo 
were landed, and the tea not landed, the vessel could not 
be cleared in Boston, and after twenty days was liable to 
seizure. Two more ships arrived, and anchored by the side 
of the Dartmouth. The people kept watch night and day 
to prevent any attempt at landing the teas. Thirteen days 
after the arrival of the Dartmouth, the owner was sum- 
moned before the Boston Committee, and told that his vessel 
and his tea must be taken back to London. It was out of 
his pow r er to do so, he said. He certainly had not the 
power; for the passages out of the harbour were guarded 
by two King's ships, to prevent any vessel going to sea with- 
out a license. On the 16th, the revenue officers would have 
legal authority to take possession of the Dartmouth. For 



BOSTON HARBOUR 143 

three days previous there had been meetings of the Boston 
Committee; but their journal had only this entry: "No 
business transacted matter of record." 

On the 1 6th of December, there was a meeting in Bos- 
ton of seven thousand persons, who resolved that the tea 
should not be landed. The master of the Dartmouth was 
ordered to apply to the Governor for a pass for his vessel 
to proceed on her return voyage to London. The Gov- 
ernor was at his country house. Many of the leaders had 
adjourned to a church, to wait his answer. The night had 
come on when Rotch returned, and announced that the Gov- 
ernor had refused him a pass, because his ship had not 
cleared. There was no more hesitation. Forty or fifty 
men, disguised as Mohawks, raised the war-whoop at the 
porch of the church; went onto the wharf where the three 
ships lay alongside; took possession of them; and deliber- 
ately emptied three hundred and forty chests of tea into 
the waters of the bay. It was the work of three hours. Not 
a sound was heard but that of breaking open the chests. 
The people of Boston went to their rest as if no extraor- 
dinary event had occurred. 

On the 27th of January, 1774, the news of this decisive 
act reached the English Government. On the 29th there 
was a great meeting of the Lords of the Council to consider 
a petition of Massachusetts for the dismissal of Hutchin- 
son, the Governor, and Oliver, the Lieutenant-Governor. 
Dr. Franklin appeared before the Council as agent for Mas- 
sachusetts. He had obtained possession of some private let- 
ters written confidentially several years before, in which 
Hutchinson and Oliver avowed sentiments opposed to what 
they considered the licentiousness of the colonists. These 
letters Franklin transmitted to the Assembly at Boston, who 
voted, by a large majority, that the opinions expressed con- 
templated the establishment of arbitrary power; and they 



144 BOSTON HARBOUR 

accordingly petitioned for the removal of the Governor and 
Lieutenant-Governor. The intelligence from Boston of the 
destruction of the teas was not likely to propitiate the Coun- 
cil. Franklin was treated with little respect; and Wed- 
derburn, the Solicitor-General, assailed him with a torrent 
of invectives, at which the Lords cheered and laughed. 
Franklin bore the assaults with perfect equanimity; but 
from that hour he ceased to be a mediator between Great 
Britain and the Colonists. The Council reported that the 
petition from Massachusetts was " groundless, vexatious and 
scandalous." Two days after, Franklin was dismissed from 
his office of Deputy Postmaster-General. He said to Priest- 
ley, who was present at the Council, that he considered the 
thing for which he had been so insulted as one of the best 
actions of his life. 

The Parliament had met on the 13th of January. It was 
the 7th of March when Lord North delivered the King's 
message relating to " the violent and outrageous proceed- 
ings at the town and port of Boston, in the province of Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, with a view to obstructing the commerce of 
this Kingdom, and upon grounds and pretences immedi- 
ately subversive of the constitution thereof." There was 
a debate, of which the most remarkable part was, that when 
Lord North stated that the proper papers should be ready 
on the following Friday. Thurlow, the Attorney-General, 
said, loud enough to reach the ear of the minister, " I never 
heard of anything so impudent; he has no plan yet ready." 
The one plan which first presented itself — the most unfor- 
tunate of all plans — is exhibited in a note of the King to 
Lord North, dated the 4th of February: "Gen. Gage, 
though just returned from Boston, expresses his willingness 
to go back at a day's notice if convenient measures are 
adopted. He says, ' They will be lions while we are lambs; 
but if we take the resolute part, they will undoubtedly prove 



BOSTON HARBOUR 145 

very weak.' Four regiments sent to Boston, will, he thinks, 
be sufficient to prevent any disturbance. All men now feel 
that the fatal compliance of 1766 has increased the preten- 
sions of the Americans to thorough independence." On the 
14th of March, Lord North brought in a Bill for remov- 
ing the Custom House from Boston, and declaring it un- 
lawful, after the 1st of June, to lade or unlade, ship or 
unship, any goods from any lading-place within the harbour 
of Boston. 

There was little opposition to this measure, which was 
passed in a fortnight, and when sent to the Lords was 
quickly adopted. Chatham suggested, in a letter to Shel- 
burne, that reparation ought first to be demanded and re- 
fused before such a bill could be called just. The letter 
of Chatham, in which he makes this suggestion, is that of 
a great statesman, exhibiting the sound qualities of his mind 
perhaps even more clearly than his impassioned oratory: 

" The whole of this unhappy business is beset with dan- 
gers of the most complicated and lasting nature; and the 
point of true wisdom for the mother country seems to be 
in such nice and exact limits (accurately distinguished, and 
embraced, with a large and generous moderation of spirit), 
as narrow, short-sighted counsels of state, or overheated pop- 
ular debates, are not likely to hit. Perhaps a fatal desire to 
take advantage of this guilty tumult of the Bostonians, 
in order to crush the spirit of liberty among the Americans 
in general, has taken possession of the heart of government." 



SARATOGA 
E. S. CREASY 

BURGOYNE reached the left bank of the Hudson on the 
30th of July. Hitherto he had overcome every diffi- 
culty which the enemy and the nature of the country had 
placed in his way. His army was in excellent order, and 
in the highest spirits, and the peril of the expedition seemed 
over when once on the bank of the river which was to be 
the channel of communication between them and the British 
army in the south. 

The astonishment and alarm which these events pro- 
duced among the Americans were naturally great; but in the 
midst of their disasters, none of the colonists showed any dis- 
position to submit. The local governments of the New Eng- 
land States, as well as the Congress, acted with vigour and 
firmness in their efforts to repel the enemy. General Gates 
was sent to take the command of the army at Saratoga; and 
Arnold was despatched by Washington to act under him, 
with reinforcements of troops and guns from the main Amer- 
ican army. Burgoyne's employment of the Indians now pro- 
duced the worst possible effects. Though he laboured hard 
to check the atrocities which they were accustomed to com- 
mit, he could not prevent the occurrence of many barbarous 
outrages, repugnant both to the feelings of humanity and 
to the laws of civilized warfare. The American command- 
ers took care that the reports of these excesses should be cir- 
culated far and wide, well knowing that they would make 
the stern New Englanders not droop, but rage. Such was 
their effect. Every man saw the necessity of becoming a 

146 




Copyright, 19(11, by Detroit Photographic Co. 

BATTLE MONUMENT, SCHUYLERVILLE, NEW YORK 



SARATOGA 147 

temporary soldier, not only for his own safety, but for the 
protection and defence of those connections which are dearer 
than life itself. Thus an army was poured forth by the 
woods, mountains, and marshes, which in this part were 
thickly sown with plantations and villages. 

While resolute recruits were thus flocking to the standard 
of Gates and Arnold at Saratoga, and while Burgoyne was 
engaged at Fort Edward in providing the means for the fur- 
ther advance of his army, two events occurred, in each of 
which the British sustained loss and the Americans ob- 
tained advantage, the moral effects of which were even more 
important than the immediate result of the encounters. 

Notwithstanding these reverses, which added greatly to 
the spirit and numbers of the American forces, Burgoyne 
determined to advance. Having, by unremitting exertions, 
collected provisions for thirty days, he crossed the Hudson 
by means of a bridge of rafts, and, marching a short dis- 
tance along its western bank, he encamped on the 14th of 
September on the heights of Saratoga. The Americans had 
fallen back from Saratoga, and were now strongly posted 
near Stillwater, about half-way between Saratoga and Al- 
bany, and showed a determination to recede no further. 

The country between Burgoyne's position at Saratoga and 
that of the Americans at Stillwater was rugged, and seamed 
with creeks and water-courses; but, after great labour in 
making bridges and temporary causeways, the British army 
moved forward. About four miles from Saratoga, on the 
afternoon of the 19th of September, a sharp encounter took 
place between part of the English right wing, under Bur- 
goyne himself, and a strong body of the enemy, under 
Gates and Arnold. The conflict lasted till sunset. The 
British remained masters of the field ; but the loss 
on each side was nearly equal (from five hundred 
to six hundred men) ; and the spirits of the Americans 



I4 8 SARATOGA 

were greatly raised by having withstood the best regular 
troops of the English army. Burgoyne now halted 
again, and strengthened his position by field-works and re- 
doubts; and the Americans also improved their defences. 
The two armies remained nearly within cannon-shot of each 
other for a considerable time, during which Burgoyne was 
anxiously looking for intelligence of the promised expedi- 
tion from New York. At last a messenger brought the in- 
formation that Clinton was on his way up the Hudson to 
attack the American forts which barred the passage to Al- 
bany. Burgoyne, in reply, stated that unless he received 
assistance before the ioth of October, he would be obliged 
to retreat to the lakes through want of provisions. 

The Indians and the Canadians now began to desert Bur- 
goyne, while, on the other hand, Gates's army was contin- 
ually reinforced by fresh bodies of the militia. And find- 
ing the number and spirit of the enemy to increase daily, and 
his own stores of provisions to diminish, Burgoyne determined 
on attacking the Americans in front of him, and, by dis- 
lodging them from their position, to gain the means of mov- 
ing upon Albany, or, at least, of relieving his troops from 
the straitened position in which they were cooped up. 

Burgoyne's force was now reduced to less than 6000 men. 
The right of his camp was on some high ground a little to 
the west of the river: thence his intrenchments extended 
along the lower ground to the bank of the Hudson, their line 
being nearly at a right angle to the course of the stream. The 
lines were fortified in the centre and the left with redoubts 
and field-works. The numerical force of the Americans 
was now greater than the British, even in regular troops, 
and the numbers of the militia and volunteers which had 
joined Gates and Arnold were greater still. The right of 
the American position, that is to say, the part of it nearest 
to the river, was too strong to be assailed with any prospect of 



SARATOGA 149 

success, and Burgoyne therefore determined to endeavour to 
force their left. For this purpose he formed a column of 
1500 regular troops with two twelve-pounders, two how- 
itzers, and six six-pounders. The enemy's force immedi- 
ately in front of his lines was so strong that he dared not 
weaken the troops who guarded them by detaching any more 
to strengthen his column of attack. 

Burgoyne pushed forward some bodies of irregular troops 
to distract the enemy's attention, and led his column to 
within three-quarters of a mile from the left of Gates's camp, 
and then deployed his men into line. The Grenadiers, un- 
der Major Ackland, were drawn up on the left, a corps of 
Germans to the centre, and the English Light Infantry and 
the 24th regiment on the right. But Gates did not wait 
to be attacked ; and directly the British line was formed and 
began to advance, the American general, with admirable 
skill, caused a strong force to make a sudden and vehement 
rush against its left. The Grenadiers under Ackland sus- 
tained the charge of superior numbers nobly. But Gates 
sent more Americans forward, and in a few minutes the 
action became general along the centre, so as to prevent the 
Germans from sending any help to the Grenadiers. Bur- 
goyne's right was not yet engaged ; but a mass of the enemy 
were observed advancing from their extreme left, with the 
evident intention of turning the British right, and cutting 
off its retreat. The Light Infantry and the 24th now fell 
back, and formed an oblique second line, which enabled 
them to baffle this manoeuvre, and also to succour their com- 
rades in the left wing, the gallant Grenadiers, who were 
overpowered by superior numbers, and, but for this aid, 
must have been cut to pieces. Arnold now came up with 
three American regiments and attacked the right flank of 
the English double line. Burgoyne's whole force was soon 
compelled to retreat toward their camp; the left and centre 



150 SARATOGA 

were in complete disorder; but the Light Infantry and the 
24th checked the fury of the assailants, and the remains of 
Burgoyne's column with great difficulty effected their re- 
turn to their camp, leaving six of their guns in the pos- 
session of the enemy, and great numbers of killed and 
wounded on the field ; and especially a large proportion of the 
artillerymen, who had stood to their guns until shot down 
or bayoneted beside them by the advancing Americans. 

Burgoyne's column had been defeated, but the action was 
not yet over. The English had scarcely entered the camp, 
when the Americans, pursuing their success, assaulted it in 
several places with uncommon fierceness, rushing to the lines 
through a severe fire of grape-shot and musketry with the 
utmost fury. Arnold especially, who on this day appeared 
maddened with the thirst of combat and carnage, urged on 
the attack against a part of the intrenchments which was 
occupied by the Light Infantry under Lord Balcarras. 

But the English received him with vigour and spirit. 
The struggle here was obstinate and sanguinary. At length, 
as it grew towards evening, Arnold having forced all ob- 
stacles, entered the works with some of the most fearless of 
his followers. But at this critical moment of glory and 
danger, he received a painful wound in the leg which had 
already been injured at the assault on Quebec. 

To his bitter regret, he was obliged to be carried back. 
His party still continued the attack; but the English still 
continued their obstinate resistance, and at last night fell, 
and the assailants withdrew from this quarter of the Brit- 
ish intrenchments. But in another part the attack had been 
more successful. A body of Americans under Colonel 
Brooke, forced their way in through a part of the intrench- 
ments on the extreme right, which was defended by the Ger- 
man reserve under Colonel Breyman. The Germans re- 
sisted well, and Breyman died in defence of his post; but the 



SARATOGA 151 

Americans made good the ground which they had won, and 
captured baggage, tents, artillery, and a store of ammuni- 
tion, which they were greatly in need of. They had, by 
establishing themselves on this point, acquired the means of 
completely turning the right flank of the British, and gain- 
ing their rear. To prevent this calamity, Burgoyne ef- 
fected during the night a complete change of position. With 
great skill he removed his whole army to some heights near 
the river, a little northward of the former camp, and he 
there drew up his men, expecting to be attacked on the fol- 
lowing day. But Gates was resolved not to risk the cer- 
tain triumph which his success had already secured for him. 
He harrassed the English with skirmishes, but attempted 
no regular attack. Meanwhile he detached bodies of troops 
on both sides of the Hudson to prevent the British from re- 
crossing that river and to bar their retreat. When night 
fell, it became absolutely necessary for Burgoyne to retire 
again, and, accordingly, the troops were marched through 
a stormy and rainy night toward Saratoga, abandoning their 
sick and wounded, and the greater part of their baggage to 
the enemy. 

Burgoyne now took up his last position on the heights near 
Saratoga, and, hemmed in by the enemy who refused an en- 
counter, and baffled in all his attempts at finding a path of 
escape, he lingered until famine compelled him to capitu- 
late. 

At length the 13th of October arrived, and as no pros- 
pect of assistance appeared, and the provisions were nearly 
exhausted, Burgoyne, by the unanimous advice of a coun- 
cil of war, sent a messenger to the American camp to treat 
of a convention. After various messages, a convention for 
the surrender of the army was settled, which provided that 
" the troops under General Burgoyne were to march out of 
their camp with honours of war, and the artillery out of 



152 SARATOGA 

the intrenchments to the verge of the river, where the arms 
and artillery were to be left. The arms to be piled by word 
of command of their own officers. A free passage was to be 
granted to the army under Lieutenant-General Burgoyne to 
Great Britain, upon condition of not serving again in North 
America during the present contest." 

The articles of capitulation were settled on the 15th of 
October, and on that very evening a messenger arrived from 
Clinton with an account of his success, and with the tidings 
that part of his force had penetrated as far as Esopus, within 
fifty miles of Burgoyne's camp. But it was too late. The 
public faith was pledged ; and the army was indeed too debili- 
tated by fatigue and hunger to resist an attack, if made ; and 
Gates certainly would have made it, if the convention had 
been broken off. 

Accordingly, on the 17th, the Convention of Saratoga 
was carried into effect. By this convention 5790 men sur- 
rendered themselves as prisoners. The sick and wounded 
left in the camp when the British retreated, together with 
the numbers of the British, German, and Canadian troops, 
who were killed, wounded, or taken, and who had deserted 
in the preceding part of the expedition, were reckoned to 
be 4689. 

Gates, after the victory, immediately despatched Colonel 
Wilkinson to carry the happy tidings to Congress. On be- 
ing introduced into the hall, he said: "The whole British 
army has laid down its arms at Saratoga; our own, full of 
vigour and courage, expect your orders. It is for your wis- 
dom to decide where the country may still have need of their 
services." 

Honours and rewards were liberally voted by the Con- 
gress to their conquering general and his men ; and it would 
be difficult to describe the transports of joy which the news 
of this event excited among the Americans. 



SARATOGA 153 

They began to flatter themselves with a still more happy 
future. No one any longer felt arty doubt about their 
achieving their independence. All hoped, and with good 
reason, that a success of this importance would at length de- 
termine France, and the other European powers that waited 
for her example, to declare themselves in favour of America. 
" There could no longer be any question respecting the fu- 
ture, since there was no longer the risk of espousing the 
cause of a people too feeble to defend themselves." 



SAULT STE. MARIE 
ISAAC AIKEN 

THE St. Mary's River, which separates the upper penin- 
sula of Michigan from Canada, and connects Lake 
Huron with Lake Superior, is sixty-three miles long, and is 
probably the most difficult of navigation on the continent. 
It is between two and three miles wide at the mouth, and 
studded with numerous beautiful islands. As we ascend, the 
stream becomes quite narrow at different points, then sud- 
denly widens out into picturesque lakelets. Reaching the 
head of the river, we meet the falls, where all boats had to 
stop prior to the opening of the canal, but now pass on freely, 
no matter what their tonnage may be. The " falls " are a 
succession of rapids, with a descent of twenty-two feet in 
three-quarters of a mile, their whole length. There is no 
bold precipice at any point over which the waters leap, but 
a gradual flow into the deep channel of the river. There 
are several small islands scattered among the rapids, creating 
different channels. The waters rush down with great fury, 
leaping over huge boulders and winding round the fairy 
islands. The fish are abundant in the rapids. Indians and 
half-breeds may be seen at all hours of the summer day 
scooping out splendid white-fish. Two of them go out in 
each canoe. The canoe will sit in the dashing stream by the 
hour, steady as though held by anchor. They go right out 
into the most turbulent parts of the channel. One man sits 
in the stern of the canoe, and with his single oar holds her 
in the same position for a long time, her bow parting the 
waters beautifully. To the spectator ashore it frequently 

154 



SAULT STE. MARIE 155 

looks very hazardous. There is quite an art in the manage- 
ment of the frail little shell in such a position. The Indian 
who handles the net dips it quickly at the right moment and 
locality, and takes in his fish as the noble fellow is heading 
courageously against the current. This fishing is laborious, 
but very exciting, and frequently pays well. A score of ca- 
noes out in the rapids at a time when the fish are plenty 
produces a scene of high excitement among spectators on 
the shore, who probably have just landed from the steam- 
boat on their first trip to Lake Superior. Adventurous 
strangers catch the spirit of the scene and try their hand. 
And now for fun. It is all very well while they are content 
to go out and share with the Indian; but if prompted by 
their vanity to take charge of a canoe — one to hold the oar, 
the other to fish — their ardour is soon dampened, and a 
good laugh afforded those who remain on terra firma. The 
scene is ludicrous in the highest degree. Despite the utmost 
efforts of white men I have seen try it, the canoe rushes 
down stream. They try again and again, but down, down 
she goes like a bird, and the only wonder is that she does 
not upset. Our travellers, having worked themselves into a 
frenzy of excitement to become expert fishermen after the 
style of the Sault Indian and half-breed, give up in disgust, 
make for the bank as soon as possible, and rarely try a sec- 
ond time. One chance, however, yet remains for the cour- 
ageous spirits — that of having an exhilarating dance among 
the dashing, laughing waters. And be it known that the 
ladies are generally two to one in the adventure. This is to 
walk up the river bank to the head of the rapids, step into a 
canoe, and rush down some of the channels, an Indian hav- 
ing you in charge. I have seen this done several times, but 
never attempted it. If everything happens to go right, all 
is well; but a little oversight, and your chances of escape 
need not be reckoned on. Several lives were lost in earlier 



156 SAULT STE. MARIE 

years in this attempt to descend the rapids. An Indian can 
do it safely, because he does not lose self-control through 
excitement. One who has not learned the art of suppressing 
all excitement under the most extreme circumstances should 
never make the venture. 

The village of Sault Ste. Marie was founded by the Jes- 
uits over two hundred years ago. The settlement figures 
prominently in the history of their missions among the In- 
dians. It was also the seat of a government fort. The town 
is of little importance in any way. There is nothing to 
build it up, there being no mineral deposits in the vicinity, 
and its agricultural interests cannot amount to much at any 
time in the future. It will always have a great deal of sum- 
mer travel, on account of its location by the falls. The 
country around is highly romantic, and the trout fishing 
good in the streams. It is a delightful place at which to 
spend a few weeks in summer, exploring the many wild 
haunts around the mouth of the lake, and in fishing and 
duck-shooting. 

It is only about fifteen years since Lake Superior was 
fully opened to our lake commerce by the construction of the 
St. Mary's ship canal, to overcome the obstruction of the 
rapids to continuous navigation. This canal is a noble mon- 
ument to the enterprise of the present age. The old maxim 
was, "Perseverance conquers all things"; the modern read- 
ing of which is, " Money conquers all things." Thousands 
of years ago men were content to build pyramids, the tower 
of Babel and such like, without reference to large or even 
small dividends on their investments, but all that kind of 
building is unknown in America. We have as much perse- 
verance as the pyramid or tower builders, but while they were 
content to live to work, we work to live. With us every- 
thing of this kind must pay in dollars, and then we build as 
high as the ancients, and excavate deeper, and bore through 



SAULT STE. MARIE 157 

greater mountains, and talk under the widest oceans, and 
span with iron rails the largest continents. We stop at 
nothing. And so, up here lay inexhaustible mountains of 
minerals, but the rocks of Sault rapids stood as an impass- 
able barrier in the way of vessels waiting to carry these min- 
erals to where they might augment the material wealth of 
the world ; and presto ! the rocks disappear. A million dol- 
lars' worth of powder and muscle expended, and a highway 
is opened for the vessels through solid rock. The canal is 
wide and deep enough to admit the largest boats in the trade. 
I believe there are some steamers on the lower lakes too long 
for the locks, but these would not suit the Lake Superior 
trade. The locks are probably the largest in the world. The 
canal is a mile long. The cost of construction was largely 
borne by a government appropriation of lands in the State 
of Michigan. All vessels passing through pay toll. 

We pass out of the ship canal across Tequamenon Bay 
into the lake with the rising of the sun. The morning is 
delightful. Such an atmosphere, so pure to the eye, so in- 
vigorating to breathe, one never moves through in lower 
latitudes. Every passenger is in ecstasy with the hour and 
surroundings. The lake is smooth as a sea of glass, save the 
gentle swell created by the motion of the boat. There is 
not the slightest current in the air that we can feel, except 
that arising from our own motion. We sit on the upper 
deck that we may be able to sweep the eye over the whole 
picture. Wild ducks by thousands are seen over toward the 
north shore. Some of them fly off in alarm: most remain 
quietly on the water, paying no attention to us. Indians 
are encamped on the south shore, the smoke of their camp- 
fires curling up snake-like toward the sun while their morn- 
ing meal is in course of preparation. Some of them are glid- 
ing over the water in their canoes. And here, farther up, 
are white men busy taking in splendid white-fish and Mack- 



158 SAULT STE. MARIE 

inac trout from their gill-nets. As it is now breakfast hour, 
the gulls begin to gather round the boat, hovering over her 
track that they may pick up the crumbs that will be thrown 
overboard by the waiters. The captain brings out a beauti- 
ful little fowling-piece and tries to wing some of them. 
Shot after shot is fired, but no bird falls. With every flash 
the birds make a sudden curve, and instantly fall into place 
again, following us up closely. They have a sublime con- 
tempt for the gun, if they are gulls. They seem to know 
well enough that danger is threatening them, but neverthe- 
less consider themselves masters of the situation. Some of 
the passengers, who pride themselves on being good marks- 
men, are itching to try the captain's gun: they feel sure of 
success. They are gratified with the chance to shoot, but 
not with their ill success. Not a bird is hurt. In the mean- 
time, the ladies have their enjoyment of the scene by casting 
bread on the water, and watching the birds dip with beau- 
tiful agility and pick it up, sweeping right on without break- 
ing their graceful curve through the air. 

The rapid motion of the steamer soon carries us out on 
the lake, where we lose sight of land on the north, while on 
the south, keeping close to shore, we pass successively White- 
fish Point, the seat of the lighthouse; Point au Sable, a chain 
of barren white sand-hills, rising several hundred feet above 
the lake; the world-renowned Pictured Rocks, stretching 
like a grand panorama for five miles along the coast; and 
Grand Island, where there is a fine natural harbour. Im- 
mediately after passing Grand Island, Marquette looms into 
view. 



LEXINGTON 
HENRY B. DAWSON 

THE troubles between the colonies and the mother 
country, which, for upwards of half a century, had 
been accumulating and gaining strength, had been increased 
to an alarming extent by the passage of the Stamp Act in 
1765. The loyalty of the colonists had been so much im- 
paired by the passage of the Act, that its repeal, while it 
temporarily quieted them, did not effectually restore good- 
will ; and the mutiny act, which accompanied the repeal, and 
the act imposing duties on tea and other necessary articles, 
which speedily followed, called forth the energetic opposi- 
tion of the people throughout nearly the whole of the Brit- 
ish American colonies. 

Letters and remonstrances, and petitions for relief, had 
been addressed by the colonists and by the colonial assem- 
blies to influential persons in Europe, and to parliament and 
the king; conventions and congresses had been convened and 
dissolved; riots and loss of life and limb had marked the 
progress of the popular antipathies against the representa- 
tives of the crown; the committees of correspondence had 
been organized for the purpose of harmonizing the opposi- 
tion, and of producing concert of action throughout the 
young confederacy. 

A determined spirit of resistance had been manifested in 
the different seaports, when an intended attempt to force the 
tea into the colonies had been made known; and in New 
York and Boston, at least, the people, in their might, had 
returned the consignments to their owners, or re-consigned 
them to the waters of their harbours. The closing of the 

159 



^,0 LEXINGTON 

port of Boston; the abrogation of the rights of the colonial 
assembly of New York; the suspension of the charter of the 
colony of Massachusetts Bay; and other measures of a kin- 
dred character, had been adopted by the British govern- 
ment, or by the royal governors of the several colonies. Non- 
importation leagues had been reorganized and their require- 
ments enforced, and other retaliatory measures had been 
adopted by the colonists; the militia had been put into a 
state of greater efficiency; arms had been provided by those 
who were without them ; and by the colonies for the general 
use; the manufacture of arms and of gun-powder had been 
commenced in several of the colonies; encouragement had 
been offered to those who would engage in the manufacture 
of saltpetre; military stores had been collected and deposited 
in convenient places; and resistance to the power of the 
mother country, by open force, had been made the subject 
of common conversation. 

The " Committee of Supplies," appointed for that pur- 
pose by the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts, had pur- 
chased a considerable quantity of military stores and pro- 
visions, and had placed a portion of them in the custody of 
Colonel James Barrett, in the town of Concord, seventeen 
miles northwest from the town of Boston. Early in the 
spring of 1775, information of this movement had been con- 
veyed to General Thomas Gage, the commander-in-chief of 
the British forces in Boston, and steps were taken for the 
capture or destruction of the stores. Officers in disguise had 
been sent out as spies, to sketch the roads, to ascertain the 
situation of the stores, and to obtain such other information 
as might be useful in the prosecution of the enterprise. 

A few days before the time appointed to make the seizure, 
the grenadier and light-infantry companies were taken off 
duty, under pretence of enabling them to learn a new exer- 
cise, but really for the purpose of throwing the people of 



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LEXINGTON 161 

Boston off their guard. It had a contrary effect, however, 
and the Bostonians still more closely watched the movements 
of the troops and the government. 

A Daughter of Liberty, in Boston, privately notified Sam- 
uel Adams and John Hancock, who had withdrawn from 
Boston and were residing in Lexington, that within a few 
days the troops would leave the town, but the object of the 
expedition was not ascertained. Mr. Adams inferred, from 
the number of troops to be employed, that the destruction or 
capture of the stores was the object; and the " Committee of 
Safety," of the Provincial Congress, voted " that all the 
ammunition be deposited in nine different towns; and that 
other articles be lodged, some in one place, some in another: 
so as to the fifteen medicinal chests, two thousand iron pots, 
two thousand bowls, fifteen thousand canteens, and eleven 
hundred tents; and that the six companies of matrosses be 
stationed in different towns." 

On the eighteenth of April, for the purpose of still fur- 
ther concealing the purposes of the general, a party of offi- 
cers dined together at Cambridge; but after dinner they 
scattered themselves upon the road leading to Concord, for 
the purpose of intercepting any expresses which might be 
sent out of Boston to alarm the country on the departure of 
the troops. Notwithstanding all their caution, however, 
they were seen, and the object of their mission was under- 
stood. The " Committee of Safety " had been in session at 
Menotomy (West Cambridge), and the veteran General 
William Heath, who was a member, on his return home, 
met eight or nine of the party riding towards Lexington. His 
experienced eye detected the character of their equipments; 
and that circumstance, connected with the lateness of the 
hour, and their distance from Boston, excited his suspicion. 

In the town the same secrecy was attempted, yet, although 
nearly all the leaders of the popular party had retired into 



162 LEXINGTON 

the country, Dr. Joseph Warren, who remained, noticed the 
movements, and took immediate steps to prevent their suc- 
cess. Assisted by Paul Revere, — subsequently well known 
a9 one of the earliest engravers in the country, — beacon 
lights were thrown out from the tower of the North Church ; 
and Revere himself (rowed across the Charles River by a 
tried friend, five minutes before the sentinels on the Som- 
erset, a man-of-war which was anchored in the channel, re- 
ceived orders to prevent any person from passing), hastened 
towards Lexington, by way of Charlestovvn, while William 
Dawes was despatched by way of Roxbury to the same place. 
A short distance beyond Charlestown Neck, Revere was 
stopped by two British officers who had been patrolling the 
road since sunset on the preceding evening, but, being 
mounted on a fine horse, he escaped, by way of the road 
leading to Medford. As he rode through that town he 
aroused the captain of the minute-men, and stopping at 
almost every house on his way to Lexington, the inhabitants 
were prepared to discharge the important duty which was 
rapidly devolving upon them. Dawes also successfully dis- 
charged the trust reposed in him, and arrived at Lexington 
in safety. The two friends immediately proceeded to the 
house of Rev. Jonas Clark, the pastor of the church at Lex- 
ington, where John Hancock and Samuel Adams were 
secreted ; and notwithstanding the guard of minute-men, who 
had been posted around the house, strangely forbade their 
entrance, they succeeded in arousing the sleeping patriots, 
and in persuading them to retire to Woburn. The two 
friends, joined by Samuel Prescott, of Concord — an active 
Son of Liberty — after arousing the minute-men in Lexing- 
ton, proceeded towards Concord, calling up the inhabitants 
on their road, until they reached Lincoln, where they fell in 
with another party of British officers. Revere and Dawes 
were seized and taken back to Lexington ; but Prescott, leap- 



LEXINGTON 163 

ing over a stone wall, escaped and galloped on towards Con- 
cord, spreading the alarm along the road, and in the villages 
through which he passed. He reached Concord about two 
o'clock, and the alarm-bell, on the belfry of their meeting- 
house, called forth the inhabitants to the town-hall, their 
place of rendezvous. Old and young alike responded to the 
call, and while the minute-men and most of the militia, 
headed by Rev. William E. Emerson, their pastor, carrying 
their guns, and powder-horns, and ball-pouches, answered 
to their names at roll-call, others, with equal or greater dili- 
gence, ran expresses to distant villages, or hurried away the 
stores and provisions, and secreted them in the woods and 
thickets, a load in a place. Children, even, whose tender 
age forbade heavier labour, ran beside the teams, and, with 
goads, urged on their unwilling steps, and women, trem- 
bling for the result, assisted in the work, wherever their 
efforts or their words of encouragement were found useful. 

At the different villages in the vicinity similar scenes were 
enacted, and the inhabitants generally seemed to have been 
thoroughly aroused, and appreciated the importance of the 
occasion. 

At Lexington, by two o'clock, the village green was 
thronged with excited men. The aged, who were exempt, 
unless when insurrection or invasion threatened the peace of 
the town, stood shoulder to shoulder with their sons; and, 
by their example and their experience, gave encouragement 
and strength to the undisciplined masses who were present. 
One hundred and thirty men, strong and true, answered to 
their names; and John Parker, the captain of the beat, at 
the same time that he ordered them to load with ball, strictly 
enjoined them to reserve their fire until after the enemy com- 
menced the assault. No sign of the approach of the enemy 
being visible, the company was dismissed, with orders to re- 
assemble at the roll of the drum. 



^4 LEXINGTON 

But to return to Boston. Lord Percy, a general in the 
British service, while crossing the Common in the evening, 
overtook a party of the townsmen, one of whom — probably 
recognizing his lordship, and intending to be heard — re- 
marked, in his hearing, " They will miss their aim." Percy 
inquired, " what aim " was referred to, and was answered, 
" Why, the cannon at Concord." Perceiving that the in- 
tended expedition was known in the town, Percy hastened 
to General Gage with the intelligence, and orders were im- 
mediately issued to the sentries on the Neck, and on the 
different vessels in the harbour, that no person should be per- 
mitted to leave the town without special orders from head- 
quarters. These orders, as we have seen, were issued too 
late, and the energetic Revere and Dawes were beyond the 
reach of both the sentries and the general. 

At length, about eleven o'clock, the grenadiers and light- 
infantry, — the elite of the army, — about eight hundred in 
number, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, embarked 
at the Common and proceeded up the Charles River, as far 
as a place known as Phipps's Farm, in the present town of 
West Cambridge. Landing at that place, they immediately 
proceeded on their way towards Lexington, under the guid- 
ance of several Loyalists, at whose urgent solicitation the 
expedition was planned. In the selection of this course the 
enemy was probably influenced by information which he had 
received of the meeting of the " Committee of Safety " at 
Menotomy (now West Cambridge) on the preceding after- 
noon, and by hopes which he entertained on securing some 
of its members, as the troops halted when they came oppo- 
site Wetherby's tavern, where the meeting had been held. 
Several members of the committee, among whom were Colo- 
nels Orne and Lee, and Elbridge Gerry, were then sleeping 
in the house; and they barely escaped, in their night-clothes, 
by the back door, into the fields. 



LEXINGTON 165 

The enemy's approach to Lexington was announced by 
the firing of guns and the ringing of alarm-bells ; and Colonel 
Smith, perceiving that his advance into the country had be- 
come known, immediately detached six companies of light- 
infantry, under Major Pitcairn, of the marines, with orders 
to press on, by a forced march, to Concord, and secure two 
bridges over the Concord River, near that town ; and, at the 
same time, he sent a messenger to Boston for reinforcements. 
Pitcairn, as he was directed, advanced rapidly towards Lex- 
ington, capturing several persons on the way. One of these 
prisoners, named Thaddeus Bowman, escaped, and, hasten- 
ing to Lexington, informed Captain Parker of the approach 
of the enemy. The drum was immediately beat to arms, and 
about seventy, who were in the immediate neighbourhood, 
assembled on the green, one half of whom were without 
arms. Captain Parker ordered those who were unarmed to 
go into the meeting-house (near by), equip themselves, and 
join the company; while those who were armed, thirty-eight 
in number, he directed to follow him to the north end of the 
green, where he formed them in line, in single file. Before 
those who were in the meeting-house could obtain arms and 
ammunition, Pitcairn and his detachment came up; and the 
latter, probably by design, were wheeled so as to cut the for- 
mer off, and prevent them from joining their comrades under 
Captain Parker. 

Marching up by column of platoons, the enemy advanced 
within fifty feet of the position occupied by Captain Parker, 
and there halted. Major Pitcairn then advanced a few feet 
in front of his men, brandished his sword, and shouted, 
" Lay down your arms, you damned rebels, or you are all 
dead men!" and immediately afterwards, "the rebels" fail- 
ing to comply with his first order, he ordered his men to 
" Fire." The first platoon discharged their pieces, but no 
one was hurt. Captain Parker then directed every man to 



1 66 LEXINGTON 

take care of himself, and they accordingly dispersed. While 
they were retreating, the second platoon of the enemy also 
fired, killing several and wounding others. 

Accounts of the affair differ respecting the use of their 
arms by the party under Captain Parker. Some authorities 
state that they returned the fire when they found that they 
were fired upon while retreating; and Stedman, who went 
out from Boston with the reinforcement sent to meet Colonel 
Smith on his return, states that one British soldier was 
wounded, and that Major Pitcairn's horse was wounded in 
two places. Many of those who were present state posi- 
tively that the enemy's fire was not returned by the Ameri- 
cans; and thus the matter rests, from conflict of testimony, 
in great uncertainty. 

Of the Americans, the following were killed: Ensign 
Robert Monroe, Jonas Parker, Samuel Hadley, Jonathan 
Harrington, Jr., Isaac Muzzy, Caleb Harrington, and John 
Brown, of Lexington, and Asabel Porter, of Woburn; and 
nine were wounded. 

By this time the main body, under Lieutenant-Colonel 
Smith, came up, and the whole party pushed on for Concord, 
six miles distant, probably elated with the victory which had 
been won at Lexington; and, more than ever, convinced of 
the truth of their insinuations respecting the courage of the 
colonists. Little did they suppose, however, that the blood 
shed on the village green at Lexington, like that of the mar- 
tyrs, was but a " seed " in the hands of the husbandman, 
which being cast forth, produces fruit in its season. Although 
not the first blood shed in the cause of American freedom, 
it was the first which called forth the united opposition, by 
armed force, of the excited colonists, and broke down the 
wall of separation which had so long divided the different 
sections of the country — New York from Virginia, and both 
from New England. 



SAN SALVADOR 

WASHINGTON IRVING 

|"T was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that 
-■- Columbus first beheld the New World. As day dawned 
he saw before him a level island, several leagues in extent, 
and covered with trees like a continual orchard. Though 
apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for the inhabitants 
were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and running 
to the shore. They were perfectly naked ; and, as they 
stood gazing at the ships, appeared by their attitudes and 
gestures to be lost in astonishment. Columbus made signal 
for the ships to cast anchor, and the boats to be manned 
and armed. He entered his own boat richly attired in scar- 
let, and holding the royal standard ; while Martin Alonzo 
Pinzon and Vincent Jaiiez, his brother, put off in company 
in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise em- 
blazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters 
F. and Y., the initials of the Castilian monarchs, Ferdinand 
and Ysabel, surmounted by crowns. 

As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was dis- 
posed for all kinds of agreeable impressions, was delighted 
with the purity and suavity of the atmosphere, the crystal 
transparency of the sea and the extraordinary beauty of the 
vegetation. He beheld, also, fruits of an unknown kind 
upon the trees which overhung the shores. On landing he 
threw himself on his knees, kissed the earth, and returned 
thanks to God with tears of joy. His example was followed 
by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same 
feelings of gratitude. Columbus, then rising, drew his 

167 



1 68 SAN SALVADOR 

sword, displayed the royal standard, and assembling round 
him the two captains, with Rodrigo de Escobedo, notary of 
the armament, Rodrigo Sanchez, and the rest who had 
landed, he took solemn possession in the name of the Cas- 
tilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San Salva- 
dor. Having complied with the requisite forms and cere- 
monies, he called upon all present to take the oath of 
obedience to him, as admiral and viceroy, representing the 
persons of the sovereigns. 

The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most 
extravagant transports. They had recently considered them- 
selves devoted men, hurrying forward to destruction; they 
now looked upon themselves as favourites of fortune, and 
gave themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They 
thronged around the admiral with overflowing zeal, some 
embracing him, others kissing his hands. Those who had 
been most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were 
now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favours 
of him, as if he had already wealth and honours in his gift. 
Many abject spirits, who had outraged him by their inso- 
lence, now crouched at his feet, begging pardon for all the 
trouble they had caused him, and promising the blindest 
obedience for the future. 

The natives of the island, when, at the dawn of day, 
they had beheld the ships hovering on their coast, had sup- 
posed them monsters which had issued from the deep during 
the night. They had crowded to the beach and watched 
their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about, 
apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling of 
their sails, resembling huge wings, filled them with aston- 
ishment. When they beheld their boats approach the shore, 
and a number of strange beings clad in glittering steel, or 
raiment of various colours, landing upon the beach, they 
fled in affright to the woods. Finding, however, that there 



SAN SALVADOR 169 

was no attempt to pursue nor molest them, they gradually 
recovered from their terror, and approached the Spaniards 
with great awe; frequently prostrating themselves on the 
earth, and making signs of adoration. During the ceremo- 
nies of taking possession, they remained gazing in timid 
admiration at the complexion, the beards, the shining ar- 
mour and splendid dress of the Spaniards. Columbus par- 
ticularly attracted their attention, from his commanding 
height, his air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the 
deference which was paid to him by his companions; all 
which pointed him out to be the commander. When they 
had still further recovered from their fears, they approached 
the Spaniards, touched their beards, and examined their hands 
and faces, admiring their whiteness. Columbus was pleased 
with their gentleness and confiding simplicity, and suffered 
their scrutiny with perfect acquiescence, winning them by his 
benignity. They now supposed that the ships had sailed 
out of the crystal firmament which bounded their horizon, 
or had descended from above on their ample wings, and that 
these marvellous beings were inhabitants of the skies. 

As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island 
at the extremity of India, he called the natives by the gen- 
eral appellation of Indians, which was universally adopted 
before the true nature of the discovery was known, and has 
since been extended to all the aboriginals of the New 
World. 

The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, 
set his foot upon the New World, was called by the natives 
Guanahane. It still retains the name of San Salvador, 
which he gave to it, though called by the English Cat Island. 
The light which he had seen the evening previous to his 
making land may have been on Watling's Island, which 
lies a few leagues to the east. San Salvador is one of the 
great cluster of the Lucayos, or Bahama Islands, which 



170 SAN SALVADOR 

stretch southeast and northwest from the coast of Florida 
to Hispaniola, covering the northern coast of Cuba. 

On the morning of the 14th of October, the Admiral 
set off at daybreak with the boats of the ship to reconnoitre 
the island, directing his course to the northeast. The coast 
was surrounded by a reef of rocks, within which there was 
depth of water and sufficient harbour to receive all the 
ships in Christendom. The entrance was very narrow; 
within there were several sand-banks, but the water was 
as still as in a pool. 

The island appeared throughout to be well wooded, with 
streams of water and a large lake in the centre. As the 
boats proceeded they passed two or three villages, the in- 
habitants of which, men as well as women, ran to the 
shores, throwing themselves on the ground, lifting up their 
hands and eyes, either giving thanks to heaven, or worship- 
ping the Spaniards as supernatural beings. They ran along 
parallel to the boats, calling after the Spaniards, and inviting 
them by signs to land, offering them various fruits and ves- 
sels of water. Finding, however, that the boats continued 
on their course, many threw themselves into the sea and 
swam after them, and others followed in canoes. The 
admiral received them all with kindness, giving them glass 
beads and other trifles, which were received with transports 
as celestial presents, for the invariable idea of the savages 
was that the white men had come from the skies. 

In this way they pursued their course, until they came 
to a small peninsula, which with two or three days' labour 
might be separated from the mainland and surrounded with 
water, and was therefore specified by Columbus as an excel- 
lent situation for a fortress. On this were six Indian cabins, 
surrounded by groves and gardens as beautiful as those of 
Castile. The sailors being wearied with rowing and the 
island not appearing to the admiral of sufficient importance 



SAN SALVADOR 171 

to induce colonization, he returned to the ships, taking seven 
of the natives with him, that they might acquire the Spanish 
language and serve as interpreters. Having taken in a sup- 
ply of wood and water, they left the island of San Salvador 
the same evening, the admiral being impatient to arrive at 
the wealthy country to the south, which he flattered himself 
would prove the famous island of Cipango. 



WEST POINT 
BENSON JOHN LOSSING 

FROM the brow of the hill, near the Cadet's Monu- 
ment, is a comprehensive view of the picturesque village 
of Cold Spring, on the east side of the river, occupying a 
spacious alluvial slope, bounded by rugged heights on the 
north, and connected, behind a range of quite lofty moun- 
tains, with the fertile valleys of Dutchess and Putnam 
Counties. We shall visit it presently. Meanwhile let us 
turn our eyes southward, and from another point on the 
margin of the Cemetery, where a lovely shaded walk in- 
vites the strollers on warm afternoons, survey Camp Town 
at our feet, with West Point and the adjacent hills. In this 
view we see the Old Landing-Place, the road up to the pla- 
teau, the Laboratory buildings, the Siege Battery, the Hotel, 
near the remains of old Fort Clinton, upon the highest 
ground on the plain, the blue dome of the Chapel, the 
turrets of the great Mess Hall, on the extreme right, the 
Cove, crossed by the Hudson River Railway, and the range 
of hills on the eastern side of the river. 

Following this walk to the entrance gate, we traverse a 
delightful winding road along the river-bank, picturesque 
at every turn, to the parting of the ways. One of these 
leads to the Point, the other up Mount Independence, on 
whose summit repose the grey old ruins of Fort Putnam. 
We had ascended that winding mountain road many times 
before, and listened to the echoes of the sweet bugle, or the 
deeper voices of the morning and evening gun at the Point. 
Now we were invited by a shady path, and a desire for 

172 



WEST POINT 173 

novelty, from the road between Forts Webb and Putnam, 
into the deep rocky gorge between Mount Independence and 
the more lofty Redoubt Hill, to rear of the old fortress, 
where it wears the appearance of a ruined castle upon a 
mountain crag. The afternoon sun was falling full upon 
the mouldering ruin, and the chaotic mass of rocks beneath 
it; while the clear blue sky and white clouds presented the 
whole group, with accompanying evergreens, in the boldest 
relief. Making our way back by another but more difficult 
path, along the foot of the steep acclivity, we soon stood 
upon the broken walls of Fort Putnam, 500 feet above the 
river, with a scene before us of unsurpassed interest and 
beauty, viewed in the soft light of the evening sun. At our 
feet lay the promontory of West Point, with its Military 
Academy, the quarters of the officers and the cadets, and 
other buildings of the institution. To the left lay Constitu- 
tion Island, from a point of which, where a ruined wall 
now stands, to the opposite shore of the main, a massive 
iron chain was laid upon floating timbers by the Americans, 
at the middle of the old war for independence. Beyond the 
island arose the smoke of the furnaces and forges, the spires, 
and the roofs of Cold Spring. Toward the left loomed up 
the lofty Mount Taurus, vulgarly called Bull Hill, at 
whose base, in the shadow of a towering wall of rock, and 
in the midst of grand old trees, nestles Under Cliff, then 
the home of Morris, whose songs have delighted thousands 
in both hemispheres. On the extreme left arose old Cro' 
Nest; and over its right shoulder lay the rugged range of 
Break Neck, dipping to the river sufficiently to reveal the 
beautiful country beyond, on the borders of Newburgh Bay. 
This is one of the most attractive points of view on the 
Hudson. 

Fort Putnam was erected by the Americans in 1778, for 
the purpose of defending Fort Clinton, on West Point 



174 WEST POINT 

below, and to more thoroughly secure the river against the 
passage of hostile fleets. It was built under the direction 
of Colonel Rufus Putnam, and chiefly by the men of his 
Massachusetts regiment. It commanded the river above 
and below the Point, and it was almost impregnable, owing 
to its position. In front, the mountain is quite steep for 
many yards, and then slopes gently to the plains; while on 
its western side, a perpendicular wall of rock, fifty feet in 
height, would have been presented to the enemy. Redoubts 
were also built upon other eminences in the vicinity. These 
being chiefly earth-works, have been almost obliterated by 
the action of storms; and Fort Putman was speedily dis- 
appearing under the hands of industrious neighbours, who 
were carrying off the stone for building purposes, when 
the work of demolition was arrested by the Government. Its 
remains, consisting of only broken walls and two or three 
arched casemates, all overgrown with vines and shrubbery, 
are now carefully preserved. Even the cool spring that bub- 
bles from the rocks in its centre, is kept clear of choking 
leaves; and we may reasonably hope that the ruins of Fort 
Putnam will remain, an object of interest to the passing 
traveller, for more than a century to come. 

The views from Roe's Hotel, on the extreme northern 
verge of the summit of the plain of West Point, are very 
pleasing in almost every direction. The one northward, 
similar to that from the Siege Battery, is the finest. West- 
ward the eye takes in the Laboratory, Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wood's Monument, a part of the shaded walk along the 
northern margin of the plain, and Mount Independence, 
crowned with the ruins of Fort Putnam. Southward the 
view comprehends the entire Parade, and glimpses, through 
the trees, of the Academy, the Chapel, the Mess Hall, and 
other buildings of the institution, with some of the officers' 
quarters and professors' residences on the extreme right. 



WEST POINT 175 

The earthworks of Fort Clinton have recently been restored, 
in their original form and general proportions exactly upon 
their ancient site, and present, with the beautiful trees grow- 
ing within their green banks, a very pleasant object from 
every point of view. The old fort was constructed in the 
spring of 1778, under the direction of the brave Polish sol- 
dier, Thaddeus Kosciuszko, who was then a colonel in 
the Continental Army, and chief of the Engineers' Corps. 
The fort, when completed, was 600 yards around, within 
the walls. The embankments were 21 feet at the base 
and 14 feet in height. Barracks and huts sufficient to ac- 
commodate six hundred persons were erected within the 
fort. It stood upon a cliff, on the margin of the plain, 180 
feet above the river. 

Kosciuszko was much beloved by the Revolutionary 
Army, and his memory is held in reverence by the American 
people. He was only twenty years of age when he joined 
that army. He had been educated at the Military School 
of Warsaw. He had not completed his studies, when he 
eloped with a beautiful girl of high rank. They were 
overtaken by the maiden's father, who made a violent at- 
tempt to seize his daughter. The young Pole was compelled 
either to slay the father or abandon the daughter. He choose 
the latter, and obtaining the permission of his sovereign, 
he went to France, and there became a student in drawing 
and military science. In Paris he was introduced to Dr. 
Franklin, and, fired with a desire to aid a people fighting 
for independence, he sailed for America, bearing letters 
from that minister. He applied to Washington for em- 
ployment. " What do you seek here? " asked the leader of 
the armies of the revolted colonies. " I come to fight as a 
volunteer for American independence," the young Pole re- 
plied. "What can you do?" Washington asked. "Try 
me," was Kosciuszko's prompt reply. Pleased with the 



176 WEST POINT 

young man, Washington took him into his military family. 
The Congress soon afterwards appointed him engineer, with 
the rank of colonel. He returned to Poland at the close 
of the Revolution, and was made a major-general under 
Poniatowski. He was at the head of the military move- 
ments of the Revolution in Poland in 1794, and was made 
a prisoner, and carried to St. Petersburg. This event caused 
Campbell to write: 

" Hope for a season bade the earth farewell, 
And freedom shrieked when Kosciuszko fell." 

After the Empress Catherine died, the Emperor Paul lib- 
erated him, offered him command in the Russian service, 
and presented him with his own sword. He declined it, 
saying, " I no longer need a sword, since I have no longer 
a country to defend." He revisited the United States in 
1797, when the Congress granted him land in considera- 
tion of his services. He afterwards lived in Switzerland, 
and there he died in 181 7. A public funeral was made for 
him at Warsaw. Twelve years afterwards, the cadets at 
West Point, actuated by love for the man and reverence for 
his deeds, erected a beautiful marble monument to his mem- 
ory, within the ruins of old Fort Clinton, at a cost of about 
$5000. It bears upon one side the name of " Kosciuszko," 
and on another, the simple inscription. " Erected by the 
Corps of Cadets, 1828." It is a conspicuous and pleasing 
object to voyagers upon the river. 

Passing along the verge of the cliffs, southward from 
Kosciuszko's monument, the visitor soon reaches another 
memorial stone. It is of white marble, the chief member 
being a fluted column, entwined by a laurel wreath, held 
in the beak of an eagle, perched upon its top. The pedestal 
is of temple form, square, with a row of encircling stars 



WEST POINT 177 

upon its entablature, and a cannon, like a supporting col- 
umn, at each corner. It was erected to commemorate a 
battle fought between a detachment of United States troops 
under Major Frances L. Dade, and a party of Seminole 
Indians, in the Everglades of Florida, on the 28th of De- 
cember, 1835. 

A few feet from Dade's Command's Monument, a 
narrow path, through a rocky passage, overhung with boughs 
and shrubbery, leads down to a pleasant terrace in the steep 
bank of the river, which is called Kosciuszko's Garden. At 
the back of the terrace the rock rises perpendicularly, and 
from its outer edge descends as perpendicularly to the river. 
This is said to have been Kosciuszko's favourite place of re- 
sort for reading and meditation, while he was at West Point. 
He found a living spring bubbling from the rocks, in the 
middle of the terrace, and there he constructed a pretty 
little fountain. Its ruins were discovered in 1802, and re- 
paired. The water now rises into a marble basin. Seats 
have been provided for visitors, ornamental shrubs have 
been planted, and the whole place wears an aspect of mingled 
romance and beauty. A deep circular indention in the rock 
back of the fountain was made, tradition affirms, by a can- 
non-ball sent from a British ship, while the Polish soldier 
was occupying his accustomed loitering-place, reading Vau- 
ban, and regaled by the perfume of roses. From this quiet, 
solitary retreat, a pathway, appropriately called Flirtation 
Walk, leads up to the plain. 

A short distance from Kosciuszko's Garden, upon a higher 
terrace, is Battery Knox, constructed by the cadets. It com- 
mands a fine view of the eastern shore of the Hudson, in 
the Highlands, and down the river to Anthony's Nose. 
Near by are seen the Cavalry Stables and the Cavalry Exer- 
cise Hall, belonging to the Military School; and below there 
is seen the modern West Point Landing. A little higher 



178 WEST POINT 

up, on the plain, are the groups of spacious edifices used for 
the purposes of the institution. 

West Point was indicated by Washington, as early as 
1783, as an eligible place for a military academy. In 
his message to Congress in 1793, he recommended the 
establishment of one at West Point. The subject rested 
until 1802, when Congress made provision by law for such 
an institution there. Very little progress was made in the 
matter until the year 1812, when, by another act of Con- 
gress, a corps of engineers and professors were organized, 
and the school was endowed with the most attractive fea- 
tures of a literary institution, mingled with that of a 
military character. From that time until the present, the 
academy has been increasing in importance, as the nursery 
of army officers and skilful practical engineers. 

The buildings of the West Point Military Academy con- 
sisted, at the time we are considering, of cadets' barracks, 
cadets' guard-house, academy, mess-hall, hospital for cadets, 
chapel, observatory, and library, artillery laboratory, hos- 
pital for troops, equipment shed, engineers' troops barracks, 
post guard-house, dragoons' barracks, cavalry exercise hall, 
cavalry stables, powder magazine, the quarters of the offi- 
cers and professors of the academy, workshops, commissary 
of the cadets' and sutler's store, shops and cottages for the 
accommodation of non-commissioned officers and their fami- 
lies, laundresses of the cadets, etc. The principal edifices 
are built of granite. 

The post is under the general command of a superinten- 
dent, who bears the rank of brevet-colonel. The average 
number of cadets was about two hundred and fifty. Candi- 
dates for admission are selected by the War Department at 
Washington City, and they are required to report themselves 
for examination to the superintendent of the academy be- 
tween the first and twentieth day of June. None are ad- 



WEST POINT 179 

mitted who are less than sixteen or more than twenty-one 
years of age, who are less than five feet in height, or who 
are deformed or otherwise unfit for military duty. Each 
cadet, on a mission, is obliged to subscribe his name to an 
agreement to serve in the army of the United States four 
years, in addition to his four years of instruction, unless 
sooner discharged by competent authority. 

The course of instruction consists of infantry tactics and 
military policy, mathematics, the French language, natural 
philosophy, drawing, chemistry, mineralogy, artillery tac- 
tics, the science of gunnery, and the duties of a military 
laboratory, engineering and the science of war, geography, 
history and ethics, the use of the sword, and cavalry exer- 
cise and tactics. The rules and regulations of the academy 
are very strict and salutary, and the instruction in all de- 
partments is thorough and complete. 

The road from the plain to the landing at West Point 
was cut from the steep, rocky bank of the river, at a heavy 
expense to the government. 

A steam ferry-boat connects West Point with the Garri- 
son Station of the Hudson River Railway opposite. Near 
the latter is the old ferry-place of the Revolution, where 
troops crossed to and from West Point. Here Washington 
crossed on the morning when General Arnold's treason was 
discovered, and here he held a most anxious consultation 
with Colonel Hamilton when the event was suspected. 

We crossed the ferry to Garrison's and from the road 
near the station obtained a pleasant view of West Point, 
glimpses of the principal buildings there, and the range of 
lofty hills beyond, which form the group of the Cro' Nest 
and the Storm King. Following a winding road up the east 
bank of the river from this point, we came to a mill, almost 
hidden among the trees at the head of a dark ravine, through 
which flows a clear mountain stream called Kedron Brook, 



180 WEST POINT 

wherefore I could not learn, for there is no resemblance to 
Jerusalem or the Valley of Jehoshaphat near. It is a portion 
of the beautiful estate of Ardinla, the property of Richard 
Arden, Esq. His son, Lieutenant Thomas Arden, a gradu- 
ate of the West Point Military Academy, owns and occu- 
pies Beverly, near by, the former residence of Colonel Bev- 
erly Robinson (an eminent American loyalist during the war 
for independence), and the headquarters of General Bene- 
dict Arnold at the time of his treason. It is situated upon 
a broad and fertile terrace, at the foot of Sugar-Loaf Moun- 
tain, one of the eastern ranges of the Highlands, which rises 
eight hundred feet above the plain. 

General Arnold was at the Mansion of Colonel Robin- 
son (Beverly House) on the morning of the 24th of Sep- 
tember, 1780, fully persuaded that his treasonable plans for 
surrendering West Point and its dependencies into the hands 
of Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander-in-chief, — 
then in possession of New York, — for the consideration of 
a brigadier's commission in the British army, and £10,000 
in gold, were working prosperously. 

Major Andre, Arnold's immediate accomplice in trea- 
sonable designs, had, in a personal interview, arranged the 
details of the wicked bargain, and left for New York. 
Arnold believed he had arrived there in safety, with all 
requisite information for Sir Henry; and that before Wash- 
ington's return from Connecticut, whither he had gone to 
hold a conference with Rochambeau and other French offi- 
cers, Clinton would have sailed up the Hudson and taken 
possession of the Highland fortresses. But Andre did not 
Teach New York. He was captured on his way, by militia- 
men, as a suspicious-looking traveller. Evidences of his 
character as a spy were found upon his person, and he was 
detained. Washington returned sooner than Arnold ex- 
pected him. To the surprise of the traitor, Hamilton and 



WEST POINT 181 

Lafayette reached the Beverly House early on the morning 
of the 24th, and announced that Washington had turned 
down to the West Point Ferry, and would be with them 
soon. At breakfast Arnold received a letter from an officer 
below, saying, "Major Andre, of the British Army, is a 
prisoner in my custody." The traitor had reason to expect 
that evidences of his own guilt might arrive at any moment. 
He concealed his emotions. With perfect coolness he or- 
dered a horse to be made ready, alleging that his presence 
was needed " over the river " immediately. He then left 
the table, went into the great passage, and hurried up the 
broad staircase to his wife's chamber. In brief and hurried 
words he told her that they must instantly part, perhaps 
forever, for his life depended on his reaching the enemy's 
lines without detection. Horror stricken, the poor young 
creature, but one year a mother, and not two a wife, swooned 
and sank senseless upon the floor. Arnold dare not call for 
assistance, but kissing, with lips blasted by words of guilt 
and treason, his boy, then sleeping in angel innocence and 
purity, he rushed from the room, mounted a horse, hastened 
to the river, flung himself into his barge, and directing 
the six oarsmen to row swiftly down the Hudson, escaped 
to the Vulture, a British sloop-of-war, lying far below. 



THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 
JACQUES DE LA METAIRIE * 

To all those to whom these presents shall come, greeting: 
— Know, that, having been requested by the said Sieur de 
la Salle to deliver to him an act, signed by us and by the 
witnesses therein named, of possession by him taken of the 
country of Louisiana, near the three mouths of the River 
Colbert, in the Gulf of Mexico, on the 9th of April, 1682. 

In the name of the most high, mighty, invincible, and 
victorious Prince, Louis the Great, by the Grace of God, 
King of France and of Navarre, Fourteenth of that name, 
and of his heirs, and the successor of his crown, we, the 
aforesaid Notary, have delivered the said act to the said 
Sieur de la Salle, the tenor whereof follows: 

On the 27th of December, 1681, M. de la Salle departed 
on foot to join M. de Tonty, who had preceded him with 
his followers and all his equipage forty leagues into the 
Miami's country, where the ice on the River Chekagou, in 
the country of the Mascoutens, had arrested his progress, 
and where, when the ice became stronger, they used sledges 
to drag the baggage, the canoes, and a wounded Frenchman, 
through the whole length of this river, and on the Illinois, 
a distance of seventy leagues. 

At length, all the French being together, on the 25th of 

1 Notary of Fort Frontenac in New France, commissioned to 
exercise the said function of Notary during the voyage to Louisiana 
in North America by M. de la Salle, Governor of Fort Frontenac 
for the King, and commandant of his Majesty given at St. Ger- 
main, on the 12th of May, 1678. 

182 



, ■ ■■ ;V V vW-'i ''*'?■ *V! 



M 



, ' ! 



THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 183 

January, 1682, we came to Pimiteoui. From that place, 
the river being frozen only in some parts, we continued our 
route to the River Colbert, sixty leagues, or thereabouts, 
from Pimiteoui, and ninety leagues, or thereabouts, from 
the village of the Illinois. We reached the banks of the 
River Colbert on the 6th of January, and remained there 
until the 13th, waiting for the savages, whose progress had 
been impeded by the ice. On the 13th, all having assembled, 
we renewed our voyage, being twenty-two French, carrying 
arms, accompanied by the Reverend Father Zenobe Membre, 
one of the Recollect Missionaries, and followed by eighteen 
New England savages, and several women, Ilgonquines, 
Otchipoises and Huronnes. On the 14th, we arrived at the 
village of Maroa, consisting of a hundred cabins, without 
inhabitants. Proceeding about a hundred leagues down the 
River Colbert, we went ashore to hunt on the 26th of 
February. A Frenchman was lost in the woods, and it was 
reported to M. de la Salle, that a large number of savages 
had been seen in the vicinity. Thinking that they might 
have seized the Frenchman, and in order to observe these 
savages, he marched through the woods during two days, 
but without finding them, because they had all been fright- 
ened by the guns which they had heard, and had fled. 

Returning to camp, he sent in every direction French 
and savages on the search, with orders, if they fell in with 
savages, to take them alive without injury, that he might 
gain from them intelligence of this Frenchman. Gabriel 
Barbie, with two savages, having met five of the Chikacha 
nation, captured two of them. They were received with 
all possible kindness, and, after he had explained to them 
that he was anxious about a Frenchman who had been lost, 
and that he only detained them that he might rescue him 
from their hands, if he was really among them, and after- 
wards make with them an advantageous peace (the French 



[84 THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 

doing good to everybody), they assured him that they had 
not scon the man whom we sought, but that peace would be 
received with the greatest satisfaction. Presents wore then 
given to them, and as they had signified that one of their 
villages was not more than halt a day's journey distant. M. 
de la Salle set out the next day to go thither; but, after 
travelling till night, and having remarked that they often 
contradicted themselves in their discourse* he declined ^oing 
farther without more provisions. Having pressed them to 
toll the truth, they confessed that it was yet tour days' jour* 
ney to their villages; and perceiving that M. de la Salle 
was angry at having been deceived, they proposed that one 

of them should remain with him. while the other carried 
the news to the village, whence the elders would come and 
join them four days' journey below that place. The said 
Sieur de la Salle returned to the camp with one of these 
Chikachas; and the Frenchman, whom we sought, having 
been found, he continued his voyage, and passed the river 
of the Chepontias, and the village oi the Metsi^amoas. 
The fog, which was very thick, prevented his finding the 
passage which led to the rendex-VOUS proposed by the Chik- 
achas. 

On the [2th oi March, we arrived at the Kapaha village 
of Akansa. Having established a peace there, and taken 
possession, we passed, on the isth, another of their villages, 
situate on the border of their river, and also two others, 
farther oft in the depth of the forest, and arrived at that 
of liuaha. the largest village in this nation, where peace 
was confirmed, and where the chief acknowledged that the 
village belonged to his Majesty. Two Akansas embarked 
with M. de la Salle to conduct him to the Talusas, their 
allies, about fifty leagues distant, who inhabit eight Villages 
upon the borders oi a little lake. On the loth we passed 
the villages of Tourika, Jason, and Kouera: but as they 



THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 185 

did not border on the river, and wore hostile to the Akanas 
and TaensaS] we did not stop there. 

On the 20th, we arrived at the Taensas, by whom wc 
were exceedingly well received, and supplied with a large 

quantity of provisions. M. do Tonty passed a night at one 
of their villages, where there were about seven hundred 
men carrying arms assembled in the place. Here again a 
peaee was concluded, A peace was also made with the 
Koroas, whose chief came there from the principal village 
of the Koroas, two leagues distant from that of the Matches. 
The two chiefs accompanied M. de la Salle to the hanks 
of the river. Here the Koroa chief embarked with him, to 
conduct him to his village, where peace was again concluded 
with this nation, which, besides the live other villages of 
which it is composed, is allied to nearly forty others. On 
the 31st, we passed the village of the Oumas without know- 
ing it, on account of the fog, and its distance from the 
river. 

On the 3d of April, at about ten o'clock in the morning, 
we saw among the canes thirteen or fourteen canoes. M. 
de la Salle landed, with several of his people. Footprints 
were seen, and also savages, a little lower down, who were 
fishing, and who fled precipitately as soon as they discovered 
us. Others of our party then went ashore on the borders 
of a marsh formed by the inundation of the river. M. de 
la Salle sent two Frenchmen, and then two savages to re- 
connoitre, who reported that there was a village not far off, 
but that the whole of this marsh, covered with canes, must 
be crossed to reach it; that they had been assailed with a 
shower of arrows by the inhabitants of the town, who had 
not dared to engage with them in the marsh, but who had 
then withdrawn, although neither the French nor the sav- 
ages with them had fired, on account of the orders they had 
received not to act unless in pressing danger. Presently 



1 86 THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 

we heard a drum beat in the village, and cries and howlings 
with which these barbarians are accustomed to make attacks. 
We waited three or four hours, and, as we could not encamp 
in this marsh, and seeing no one, and no longer hearing 
anything, we embarked. 

An hour afterwards we came to the village of Maheo- 
nala, lately destroyed, and containing dead bodies and marks 
of blood. Two leagues below this place we encamped. We 
continued our voyage till the 6th, when we discovered three 
channels by which the River Colbert discharges itself into 
the sea. We landed on the bank of the western channel, 
about three leagues from its mouth. On the 7th, M. de la 
Salle went to reconnoitre the shores of the neighbouring 
sea, and M. de Tonty likewise examined the great middle 
channel. They found these two outlets beautiful, large, and 
deep. On the 8th we reascended the river, a little above 
its confluence with the sea, to find a dry place, beyond the 
reach of inundations. The elevation of the North Pole 
was here about twenty-seven degrees. Here we prepared 
a column and a cross, and to the said column we affixed the 
arms of France, with this inscription: 

louis le grand, rio de france et de navarre, 
regne; le neuvieme, avril, 1682. 

The whole party, under arms, chanted the Te Deum, the 
Exaudiat, the Domine salvum fac Regem; and then, after 
a salute of firearms and cries of Vive le Roi, the column 
was erected by M. de la Salle, who, standing near it, said 
with a loud voice in French: " In the name of the most 
high, mighty, invincible, and victorious Prince, Louis the 
Great, by the Grace of God, King of France and of Na- 
varre, Fourteenth of that name, this ninth day of April, 
one thousand six hundred and eighty-two, I, in virtue of 



THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 187 

the commission of his Majesty, which I hold in my hand 
and which may be seen by all whom it may concern, have 
taken, and do now take, in the name of his Majesty and 
of his successors to the crown, possession of this country of 
Louisiana, the seas, harbours, ports, bays, adjacent straits; 
and all the nations, people, provinces, cities, towns, villages, 
mines, minerals, fisheries, streams, and rivers, comprised in 
the extent of the said Louisiana, from the mouth of the 
great river St. Louis, on the eastern side, otherwise called 
Ohio, Alighin, Sipore, or Chukagona, and this with the 
consent of the Chaouanons, Chikachas, and other people 
dwelling therein, with whom we have made alliance; as 
also along the River Colbert, or Misissippi, and rivers which 
discharge themselves therein, from its source beyond the 
country of the Kious or Nadouessious, and this with their 
consent, and with the consent of the Motantees, Ilinois, 
Mesigameas, Natches, Kouoas, which are the most consid- 
erable nations dwelling therein, with whom also we have 
made alliance either by ourselves, or by others in our behalf; 
as far as its mouth at the sea, or Gulf of Mexico, about the 
twenty-seventh degree of the elevation of the North Pole, and 
also to the mouth of the River of Palms ; upon the assurance, 
which we have received from all these nations, that we are 
the first Europeans who have descended or ascended the said 
River Colbert; hereby protesting against all those, who may 
in future undertake to invade any or all of these countries, 
people, or lands, above described, to the prejudice of the 
right of his Majesty, acquired by the consent of the nations 
herein named. Of which, and of all that can be needed, I 
hereby take to witness those who hear me, and demand an 
act of the Notary, as required by law." 

To which the whole assembly responded with shouts of 
Vive le Roi, and with salutes of firearms. Moreover, the 
said Sieur de la Salle caused to be buried at the foot of 



188 THE ACQUISITION OF LOUISIANA 

the tree, to which the cross was attached, a leaden plate, on 
one side of which were engraved the arms of France, and 
the following Latin inscription: 

LVDOVICVS MAGNVS REGNAT. 

NONO APRILIS CIO IDC LXXXII. 
ROBERTVS CAVELIER, CVM DOMINO DE TONTY, 
LEGATO, R. P. ZENOBIO MEMBRE, RECOL- 
LECTO, ET VIGINTI GALLIS, PRIMVS HOC 
FLVMEN, INDE AB ILINEORVM PAGO, ENAVI- 
GAVIT, EJVSQVE OSTIVM FECIT PERVIVM, 
NONO APRILIS ANNI CID IOC LXXXII. 

After which, the Sieur de la Salle said, that his Majesty, 
as eldest son of the Church, would annex no country to his 
crown, without making it his chief care to establish the 
Christian religion therein, and that its symbol must now be 
planted; which was accordingly done at once by erecting 
a cross, before which the Vexilla and the Domine salvum fac 
Regem were sung. Whereupon the ceremony was con- 
cluded with cries of Vive le Roi. 

Of all and every of the above, the said Sieur de la Salle 
having required of us an instrument, we have delivered to 
him the same, signed by us, and by the undersigned wit- 
nesses, this ninth day of April, one thousand six hundred 
and eighty-two. 

La Metairie, 

Notary. 

De la Salle; P. Zenobe, Recollect Missionary; Henry de 
Tonty; Francois de Boisrondet; Jean Bourdon; Sieur 
d'Autray; Jacques Cauchois; Pierre You; Gilles Meucret; 
Jean Michel, Surgeon; Jean Mas; Jean Dulignon; Nicolas 
de la Salle. 



GETTYSBURG 
JAMES SCHOULER 

GETTYSBURG— to the Southern cause "a glorious 
field of grief " — lies in a peaceful pastoral region, 
walled in on the west by the blue line of the South Moun- 
tain range, and studded throughout its landscape by lesser 
hills. Nearly as the same longitude as Washington, it is 
situated in Pennsylvania not far north of the Maryland 
border. Here the Chambersburg and Hagerstown roads 
cross one another and diverge; while a valley, highly culti- 
vated, with grain fields and orchards, lies slumbering with 
thrifty farmhouses between two nearly parallel ranges of 
hills — Seminary Ridge on the west (near which stands a 
Lutheran seminary), and, on the southeast, Cemetery Ridge, 
one of whose hills is consecrated for burial purposes. This 
latter range begins in a bold and rocky cliff, called Culp's 
Hill, at whose southerly extremity towers a conical and com- 
manding rock, Round Top, crowned with a smaller spur, 
called Little Round Top, which overlooks the surrounding 
country. Midway in the peaceful valley is a lower inter- 
mediate ridge, along which runs the road to Emmitsburg. 
Upon this natural theatre was fought the desperate three 
days' battle to be described, in the hot and exhausting 
weather of midsummer. 

Learning from Couch that Lee's army had turned away 
from the Susquehanna River, Meade, before dawn of July 
1st, arranged for a defensive line of battle along Pike's 
Creek, there to await the enemy's approach. But Reynolds 
had gone leisurely on in advance to occupy the obscure town 
of Gettysburg, having in command the First, Third, and 

189 



190 GETTYSBURG 

Eleventh Corps, the left grand division of Meade's army. 
Buford, who had taken possession of this town with his 
cavalry the day before, and thrown out pickets, encountered 
on the Chambersburg road a fragment of the enemy's ad- 
vancing host. He despatched the tidings at once to Rey- 
nolds, who dashed forward on horseback, on that memorable 
morning with his First corps following fast on foot, and 
sent word for the rest of his command, now miles in the 
rear, to hasten up quickly. After an anxious survey with 
Buford from the belfry of the Lutheran seminary, Reynolds 
resolved upon the morning's work. Here a battle might 
well be risked; here the instant duty was to keep back 
that oncoming wave until Meade could mass his host to 
break it. With a higher mandate before his eyes, the letter 
of his written directions seems to have been disregarded. 
" Heth's Conferedate division approached in force from the 
west; and while Reynolds held it watchfully in check on 
the Chambersburg road, that devoted officer was shot dead 
by a bullet through his brain. His glory on this field was 
first and greatest, yet others were to win glory there before 
the fight ended. Doubleday now took charge, with such 
of the First corps as had arrived, and the fighting began in 
earnest. From ten in the forenoon for three long hours 
the First corps alone, with Buford's cavalry, bore the brunt 
of the enemy's advance, and forced A. P. Hill to wait for 
Ewell. The Confederates, largely reinforced, were pressing 
hotly when, about two o'clock, Howard arrived with his 
Eleventh corps, and, by virtue of his rank, assumed direc- 
tion. He deployed at once to hold the two western roads to 
the left, while on the right confronting Ewell's phalanx, 
which came into view on the road from Carlisle. But the 
Union line had extended too far; and Ewell, assailing it sim- 
ultaneously in front and on the exposed flanks, won an easy 
victory; for in both numbers and position the Confederates 



GETTYSBURG 191 

had now the advantage. Howard's column was pressed 
back into the town and through it, closely pursued, and 
suffering much in wounded and captured. But before this 
misfortune, Howard had taken the precaution to secure 
Cemetery Hill, which made a strong refuge place for posting 
anew his retreating troops as they poured southward. At 
this juncture, and toward four in the afternoon, Hancock 
arrived on the scene, sent thither by Meade to assume com- 
mand in consequence of the death of Reynolds, whose tidings 
reached him. Hancock's splendid presence at this discour- 
aging moment was like that of another army corps, and 
gave calmness and confidence to our exhausted soldiery. 
He checked the fighting and received the disorganized regi- 
ments as they arrived. Howard, though demurring at the 
authority given by Meade to one who was, in lineal rank, 
his junior, co-operated generously in restoring order. The 
two arranged together a new position on Cemetery Hill 
and along the Ridge, impregnable to further assault for the 
day, and covering Gettysburg and the roads from Baltimore 
and the south. Slocum now reached the scene with Sickle's 
dusty veterans of the Third corps, who had been marching all 
day by the Emmitsburg road. To him, as ranking officer, 
the command was turned over, and Hancock galloped back to 
urge upon Meade the advantage of this new field of battle. 
Meade, while taken unawares, had not hesitated what 
course to pursue; and, though but three days in command 
of this great army, Ke relinquished one plan to take up 
another, and moved his whole force promptly to the rescue. 
All night, and by every road of approach, the Union troops 
came swarming in from the southward and marched to their 
positions under the light of the full moon. Meade himself 
came upon the field at one o'clock the next morning, pale, 
hollow-eyed, worn with toil and loss of sleep, yet rising to 
the measure of his responsibilities. 



192 GETTYSBURG 

Lee, at the opposite entrance to Gettysburg, had arrived 
on the first, in season to watch from Seminary Ridge the 
new position which his flying foe was taking. His mind 
was not yet made up to fight an offensive battle; for, im- 
pressed by the steadiness of this new alignment, he gave no 
order of attack to break up the Union preparations, but 
merely sent Ewell the suggestion to carry Cemetery Hill, 
if he thought it practicable. Ewell, however, spent the 
afternoon in waiting to be reinforced; and a great Confed- 
erate opportunity was neglected. 

The sanguinary fight of the second did not commence until 
far into the afternoon. This July weather was hot and 
oppressive; many of the troops just arrived on either side 
had borne a long and exhausting march; and doubtless the 
opposing commanders felt the onerous burden of initiating 
battle. 

Little Round Top was the key to the Union position ; 
and the enemy concealing their movements in thick woods 
until the signal for assault was given, revealed them- 
selves suddenly at four o'clock, with an outflanking line. 
Sickles held an advance position not intended by Meade, 
but too late to be rectified. Upon him, unsheltered, was 
made by Hood's division from Longstreet the first furious 
assault, Lee desiring that ground for his artillery in storm- 
ing the higher crests beyond. Here, for nearly two hours, 
raged a fierce and sanguinary conflict. 

The Confederates were driven from the hill; but later 
in the day, when the Union right was much depleted by the 
reinforcements hurried to Round Top, a line of intrench- 
ments left here by Geary's division were carried by the 
Confederate General Johnson, who held the position all 
night. Artillery had taken part wherever it could, in a 
pell-mell fight which slackened and then ceased late in the 
evening. 



GETTYSBURG 193 

Thursday, the 3d of July, dawned with that same bright 
summer weather, intensely hot, which invited inaction, until 
the sun should pass its meridian. Meade, though uncertain 
of the issue, prepared for either fate with coolness and fore- 
thought. At sunrise he telegraphed to his general who 
commanded at Frederick, to harass and annoy the enemy 
should they be driven to retreat, but in case discomfiture 
came to the Union army, then to interpose his force so as 
to protect Washington. 

The midday silence was broken by a simultaneous dis- 
charge of 130 cannon planted on the Confederate ridge, to 
whose terrific uproar half the number responded on the 
Union side. Dense clouds of smoke settled over the valley, 
through which the shells went hissing and screaming to and 
fro. This tentative artillery duel, whose damage done was 
trifling in comparison with the prodigious noise and flame, 
occupied about an hour. The Union lines stood firm as 
before, and even firmer, and no spot showed weakness for 
the foe to break. Obedient to Longstreet's orders, as the 
black canopy rolled away, Pickett valiantly led forth his 
troops from behind a ridge, where they had lain concealed, 
and a column of some 17,000 men moved wedge-like over 
the green landscape of waving grain and stubble, irradiated 
by the beaming sun. On they came, in full sight from 
Cemetery Ridge, for nearly a mile; but before they had ad- 
vanced half-way across the valley they bore off toward the 
centre and in the direction of Hancock's front. And now, 
while the Union artillery, which Lee had hoped to silence, 
opened from right to left upon the forlorn column with a 
terribly destructive fire, Pickett's assaulting force of five 
thousand, thinning in ranks at every step, approached the 
long, bristling Union line, which was drawn up firm on 
the heights. Pettigrew's division, supporting it on the left, 
was attacked by Alexander Hay's, of Hancock's corps, with 



194 GETTYSBURG 

such fun' that the ranks wavered and broke, and all coura- 
geous who were left alive mingled with the troops of Pick- 
ett. At an advanced point, where part of Webb's small 
force held a stone fence, that barrier was carried with yells 
of triumph; but Webb fell back among his puns, and, aided 
from right to left by Union brigades and regiments, which 
rushed valorously to the scene, a din and confusion arose, 
men fighting and overturning one another like wild beasts. 
until, at a little clump of woods, where Gushing, a Union 
lieutenant of artillery, fired a shot as he dropped, and the 
Confederate General Armistead, foremost in this assault, 
fell while waving his hat upon his sword-point, the last 
invading surge expended itself. More than two thousand 
men had been killed or wounded in thirty minutes. Pickett 
now gave the order to retreat, and as his bleeding and shat- 
tered force receded in confusion, the Union soldiery sprang 
forward, enveloping on all sides the Confederate ranks and 
swept in prisoners and battle ensigns. Wilcox, too, whose 
supporting column on the other side had become isolated, 
had to cut his way out in retreat, forced by a Union brigade, 
while batteries from above on Little Round Top rained 
down iron hail. While this main battle raged, sharp cav- 
alry combats took place upon both flanks of the hostile 
armies. 

With the repulse of Pickett's splendid but impracticable 
charge, the third day's fight of Gettysburg, the briefest of 
all in duration, and yet in proportion, the bloodiest, came 
to an end. Lee, shaken by the terrible consequences, took 
candidly the blame of this futile effort upon himself, and 
with soothing words drew off to save the remnant of his 
army. Meade, from the opposite heights, made no counter- 
charge, but comprehending quite slowly the magnitude of his 
Victory, which he described in despatches as a " handsome 
repulse," refrained from pressing forcibly his advantage. 



ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 
EDWARD DUFFIELD NEILL 

LIKE the Garden of Eden, the State is encircled by rivers 
■> and lakes. There is " water, water everywhere "; and 
in view of this characteristic, Nicollet called the country 
Undine. To naiads and all water spirits it would be a per- 
fect paradise. The surface of the country is dotted with 
lakes, and in some regions it is impossible to travel five miles 
without meeting a beautiful expanse of water. Many of 
these lakes are linked together by small and clear rivulets, 
while others are isolated. Their configuration is varied and 
picturesque; some are large, with precipitous shores, and con- 
tain wooded islands; others are approached by gentle grassy 
slopes. Their bottoms are paved with agates, carnelians, 
and other beautiful quartz pebbles. Owens, in his Geologi- 
cal Report, says: " Their beds are generally pebbly, or cov- 
ered with small boulders, which peep out along the shore, 
and frequently show a rocky line around the entire circum- 
ference. Very few of them have mud bottoms. The water 
is generally sweet and clear, and north of the water-shed is 
as cool and refreshing during the heats of summer as the 
water of springs or wells. All the lakes abound with vari- 
ous species of fish, of a quality and flavour greatly superior 
to those of the streams of the Middle or Western States." 

The country also contains a number of ha-ha, as the Da- 
kotahs call all waterfalls. As the State of New York shares 
with Great Britain the sublimest cataract, so Minnesota has 
a joint ownership in a picturesque fall. It is about a mile 
and a half above the mouth of Pigeon River. The perpen- 
dicular descent is sixty feet, after which the river chafes its 

i95 



196 ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 

way for many yards. About one mile below the west end of 
Grand Portage, the old depot of the Northwest Company, 
are the great cascades of Pigeon River. " The scenery at the 
cascades presents the singular combination of wild grandeur 
and picturesque beauty, with an aspect the most dreary and 
desolate imaginable. In the distance of four hundred yards, 
the river falls one hundred and forty-four feet. The fall is 
in a series of cascades through a narrow gorge, with perpen- 
dicular walls, varying from forty to one hundred and twenty 
feet, on both sides of the river." The streams in the north- 
east county of Minnesota nearly all come into Lake Superior 
with a leap. Half a mile from the lake, the Kawimbash 
hurries through perpendicular walls of stone, seventy-five 
feet in height, and at last pitches down a height of eighteen 
or twenty feet. 

On Kettle River, a tributary of the St. Croix, there are 
also interesting rapids and falls. The falls of St. Croix, 
thirty miles above Stillwater, elicit the admiration of the 
traveller. Between lofty walls of trap rock, the river rushes, 
" at first with great velocity, forming a succession of whirl- 
pools, until it makes a sudden bend, then glides along pla- 
cidly, reflecting in its deep waters the dark image of the 
columnar masses, as they rise towering above each other to 
the height of a hundred to a hundred and seventy feet." On 
the Vermilion River, which is a western tributary' of the 
Mississippi, opposite the St. Croix, there are picturesque falls, 
about a mile from Hastings. 

A drive of less than fifteen minutes from Fort Snelling, in 
the direction of St. Anthony, brings the tourist to a water- 
fall that makes a lifetime impression. 

" Stars In the silent night 
Might be enchained, 
Birds in their passing flight 
Be long detained, 



ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 197 

And by this scene entrancing, 

Angels might roam, 

Or make their home, 
Hearing, in waters dancing, 

'Mid spray and foam, 
Minnehaha ! " 



These, within a brief period, have obtained a world-wide 
reputation, from the fact that a " certain one of our own 
poets " has given the name of Minne-ha-ha to the wife of 
Hiawatha. Longfellow, in his vocabulary, says: "Minne- 
ha-ha — Laughing-water; a waterfall or a stream running 
into the Mississippi, between Fort Snelling and the Falls of 
St. Anthony." All waterfalls, in the Dahkotah tongue, are 
called Ha-ha, never Minne-ha-ha. The " h " has a strong 
guttural sound, and the word is applied because of the curl- 
ing or laughing of the waters. The verb I-ha-ha primarily 
means, to curl; secondarily, to laugh, because of the curling 
motion of the mouth in laughter. The noise of Ha-ha is 
called by the Dahkotas I-ha-ha, because of its resemblance 
to laughter. 

A small rivulet, the outlet of Lakes Harriet and Calhoun, 
gently gliding over the bluff into an amphitheatre, forms 
this graceful waterfall. It has but little of " the cataract's 
thunder." Niagara symbolizes the sublime; St. Anthony the 
picturesque ; Ha-ha the beautiful. The fall is about sixty 
feet, presenting a parabolic curve, which drops, without the 
least deviation, until it has reached its lower level, when the 
stream goes on its way rejoicing, curling along in laughing, 
childish glee at the graceful feat it has performed in bound- 
ing over the precipice. 

Five miles above this embodiment of beauty are the more 
pretentious Falls of St. Anthony. This fall was not named 
by a Jesuit, as Willard says, in her History of the United 
States, but by Hennepin, a Franciscan of the Recollect Order. 



198 ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 

He saw it while returning from Mille Lac, in the month of 
July, 1680, and named it after his patron Saint, Anthony of 
Padua. 

In the last edition of his travels, the adventurous father 
says, " The navigation is interrupted by a fall, which I called 
St. Anthony of Padua's, in gratitude for the favours done me 
by the Almighty through the intercession of that great saint, 
whom we had chosen patron and protector of all our enter- 
prises. This fall is forty or fifty feet high, divided in the 
middle by a rocky island of pyramidal form." As Hennepin 
was passing the falls, in company with a party of buffalo 
hunters, he perceived a Dahkotah up in an oak opposite the 
great fall, weeping bitterly, with a well-dressed beaver robe, 
whitened inside, and trimmed with porcupine quills, which 
he was offering as a sacrifice to the falls, which is in itself 
admirable and frightful. I heard him while shedding copious 
tears say, as he spoke to the great cateract: " Thou who art a 
spirit, grant that our nation may pass here quietly without 
accident, may kill buffalo in abundance, conquer our ene- 
mies, and bring in slaves, some of whom we will put to 
death before thee; the Messenecqz (to this day the Dah- 
kotahs call the Fox Indians by this name) have killed our 
kindred, grant that we may avenge them." 

The only other European, during the time of the French 
dominion, whose account of the falls is preserved, is Charle- 
ville. He told DuPratz, the author of a history of Louis- 
iana, that, with two Canadians and two Indians, in a birch 
canoe laden with goods, he proceeded as far as the Falls of 
St. Anthony. This cataract he describes as caused by a flat 
rock, which forms the bed of the river, and causing a fall 
of eight or ten feet. It was not far from a century after 
Hennepin saw the " curling waters," that it was gazed upon 
by a British subject. Jonathan Carver, a native of Connecti- 
cut, and captain of a Provincial troop, was the Yankee who 



ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 199 

first looked on this valuable water-power, and began to make 
calculations for further settlement. His sketch of the falls 
in 1766 was the first ever taken, and was well engraved in 
London. 

Carver, like Hennepin, speaks of a rocky island dividing 
the falls, and estimates its width about forty feet, and its 
length not much more, " and about half way between this 
island and the eastern shore, is a rock, lying at the very edge 
of the fall, that appeared to be about five or six feet broad, 
and thirty or forty long." 

During the two generations that have elapsed since this 
description was penned, some changes have taken place in the 
appearance of the falls. The small island about forty feet 
broad, which is now some distance in front of the falls, was 
probably once in its midst. The geological character of the 
bed of the river is such, that an undermining process is con- 
stantly at work. The upper stratum is limestone, with many 
large crevices, and about fifteen feet in thickness. Beneath 
is the saccharoid sandstone, which is so soft that it cannot 
resist the wearing of the rapid waters. It is more than prob- 
able that in an age long passed, the falls were once in the 
vicinity of Fort Snelling. In the course of two years they 
have receded many feet. The numbers of pine logs that pitch 
over the falls have increased the recession. As the logs float 
down they are driven into the fissures, and serve as levers, 
other logs and the water communicating the power, to 
wrench the limestone slabs from their localities. In time the 
falls will recede until they become nothing more than rapids. 

The fall of water on the west side of the dividing island 
is several rods above that on the east side, and the difference 
is occasioned by the greater volume of water on the former 
side, causing a more rapid recedence. 

There are two islands of great beauty in the rapids above 
the falls. The first juts some feet beyond the falls, and con- 



200 ST. ANTHONY AND MINNEHAHA 

tains about fifteen acres. It is now generally known as 
Hennepin Island, not, as some blunderer says in Harper's 
Magazine for July, 1 853, because the Jesuit father was 
placed there by the Indians, but in accordance with the fol- 
lowing suggestion, in an address before the Historical So- 
ciety of Minnesota, on January first, 1850: 

" As a town in the State of Illinois has already taken the 
name of Hennepin, which would have been so appropriate 
for the beautiful village of St. Anthony, we take leave of 
the discoverer of those picturesque falls, which will always 
render that town equally attractive to the eye of the poet 
and capitalist, by suggesting that the island which divides 
the laughing waters be called Hennepin." 



NEWPORT 
T. ADDISON RICHARDS 

NEWPORT occupies the south-west corner of the 
island upon which the little state of Rhode Island, of 
which it forms a considerable part, was named. To the old 
aboriginal occupants the region was known as Aquidneck, 
Aquitneck, or Aquethneck, according to varying orthogra- 
phies — signifying " Isle of Peace." Its southern shores are 
washed by the surf of the Atlantic, while at all other points 
it is surrounded by the waters of Narragansett Bay. In the 
year 1638 it was purchased by the first white settlers, of the 
Chieftains Canonicus and Miantonomi, for the certain num- 
ber of broadcloth coats, jack-knives, and other sundries, 
which went at the time to make up the customary price of 
such commodities as Indian states and territories. 

The Aquidneck pioneers were a party led by John Clarke, 
William Coddington, Mrs. Hutchinson, and others, who 
were driven by the oppressions of religious bigotry from their 
homes in the neighbouring colony of Massachusetts, as Roger 
Williams and his friends had just before been compelled to 
seek an asylum on the site of the present City of Providence, 
thirty miles above, at the head of the Narragansett Bay. 
Clarke and his fellow-exiles had set out on foot for Long 
Island on the Delaware, but were happily stopped en route by 
Mr. Williams and persuaded to enshrine their Penates on the 
Island of Aquidneck, in his own vicinage. Their first settle- 
ment was Pocasset, now Portsmouth, in the upper part of 
their new territory, but the busy hive increased so fast, that 
when a year only had passed they found it necessary to 



202 NEWPORT 

swarm, which they did, a portion of them proceeding south- 
ward, in 1639, and founding for themselves the present City 
of Newport. 

As on the settlement of Roger Williams in Providence, so 
in the colony at Aquidneck, there was a hearty exorcising of 
the demon of intolerance and persecution, in matters of con- 
science, which so marred the character of the neighbouring 
regions; and entire freedom, both religious and civil, was 
solemnly assured to all — a wise as well as just policy which 
at once strengthened the new settlements with the wealth 
and virtue of the classes proscribed elsewhere, especially the 
then numerous ones of Quakers and Jews. The admission 
of these elements into the body politic and social, contributed 
greatly to the immediate success and to the after fortunes 
of the people; and to this day is the salutary influence power- 
fully and usefully at work. 

Next to the great blessing of religious liberty, the chief 
attraction of Aquidneck, or Rhode Island — as the inhabi- 
tants re-named it, from its fancied resemblance to the Isle 
of Rhodes, in the Mediterranean — was the purity and pleas- 
antness of its climate, a greater secret of its success at this 
day even than then. 

"It is," says Neal in his history (1715-20), "deservedly 
esteemed the paradise of New-England, for the fruitfulness 
of the soil and for the temperateness of the climate; and 
though it be not above sixty-five miles south of Boston, it is 
a coat warmer in winter." Berkeley, of whose agreeable 
connection with the neighbourhood we shall speak by-and-by, 
writing in 1729 to a friend, describes the climate as like that 
of Italy, and not colder in winter than he had experienced it 
everywhere north of Rome. " We have," said Callender in 
his Historical Discourse in 1739, " all summer, a south and 
south-westerly sea-breeze " ; while another writer of a cen- 
tury back praised it as " the healthiest country he ever knew." 



NEWPORT 203 

The climate of Newport, thus so remarked by visitors at 
the earliest periods, no less than now, for its charming quali- 
ties, comes, says Professor Maury, from the trend of the gulf- 
stream, driven thitherward by the prevailing south and south- 
west winds. 

In March, 1644, six years after the first settlement at 
Aquidneck and seven years after the arrival of Williams at 
Providence, the two colonies were united by the English 
crown under a free, common charter, with their present style 
and title of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, and 
with the fitting words, "Amor vincet omnia," as their con- 
federate motto. 

For a space of a century and more from the time of its 
first settlement in 1639 to the approach of the Revolution, 
when its commercial character passed away, Newport con- 
tinued steadily to grow in numbers and importance, until it 
came to be looked upon as the future metropolis of America, 
" being then ranked," says Cooper in the Red Rover, " among 
the most important posts along the whole line of our ex- 
tended coasts." It was at this palmy period questionable if 
even New York could ever, with all its great promise, attain 
to the height which Newport had reached! All the neigh- 
bouring towns drew their foreign supplies from the little 
capital of Rhode Island, and looked to it as a market for 
their own industry. More and more, year by year, her grow- 
ing manufactories amassed wealth at home, and her increas- 
ing tonnage gathered fortune abroad. At one time upward 
of thirty distilleries were in active operation, and a large 
fleet was continually engaged in the transport of their ma- 
terials from the West Indies. Her seamen were enterpris- 
ing and successful, too, in the whale-fishing, and were the 
first, it is said, to carry that bold business as far as the Falk- 
land Islands. 

The old commercial character of the town came to our 



204 NEWPORT 

mind in vivid contrast with the present aspect when, as we 
were only the other day gliding down its quiet harbour in 
one of the many pleasure boats of the place, our eye fell 
upon one — a solitary one of those veterans of the sea — a 
whale-ship ; and our skipper informed us that " she had sunk 
herself to her owners," having just come home, after a four- 
years' cruise, with only four hundred barrels of oil. Drift- 
ing beneath the stern of the grim old craft, we thought we 
saw ' Ichabod, Newport,' painted there! 

In these days of commercial prosperity, Newport was not 
less pre-eminent for intelligence, taste, and learning, and 
was, as Dr. Waterhouse said in 1824 (Boston Intelligencer) , 
" the chosen resort of the rich and philosophic from nearly 
all parts of the civilized world." In this characteristic of 
the old town there was a foreshadowing of the special fea- 
tures of the new; for, with all its opulence and refinements, 
the social Newport of the Nineteenth Century by no means 
exceeds that of the Eighteenth in elegance and culture, or 
even approaches it in true dignity and courtliness of man- 
ners, in princely liberality, or in high-toned morale. These 
were yet the stately days of the old aristocratic regime, 
when the unwashed democracy of modern times was all un- 
dreamed of. 

Among the earliest of the distinguished names associated 
with the story of Newport is that of the venerable Bishop 
Berkeley, who made his appearance there in 1729, tarrying 
some two years. The memory of this amiable and learned 
philosopher is often and vividly recalled to the mind of the 
present people and visitors at Newport. On the edge of the 
town, within sound of the surf on the sea-shore, there yet 
stands the house which he built and occupied, under the 
name of Whitehall, beneath the humble roof of which he 
wrote some of his finest works, among them the famous ode 
in which occurs the oft-quoted line, " Westward the course 



NEWPORT 205 

of empire takes its way." In a recess of the rocky bluff 
near by, on the Sachuest or Second Beach, known to us as 
the Hanging Rocks, he is said to have penned the pages of 
his " Minute Philosopher," under the inspiration of the 
voiceful sea. The worthy Bishop's eloquence was occasion- 
ally heard from the pulpit of the venerable Trinity Church, 
and the organ in use there to this day, was the gift of his 
generous hand. 

In the society which Berkeley met in Newport was found 
his clerical friend Honeyman, the rector of Trinity Church, 
and the god-father of the lofty observatory-crowned emi- 
nence on the north of the city. Then there was the Rev. 
John Callender, the author of the famous " Historical Dis- 
course " ; the wise divines Stiles and Hopkinson, and Abra- 
ham Redwood, the generous founder of the beautiful Red- 
wood Library, so attractive to the stranger in the town at 
the present day; and besides these learned worthies, there 
were the hospitable Malbones, Godfrey and John, many 
merchant princes, and other large-hearted specimens of the 
fine old gentry of by-gone days. It would be pleasant to 
recall here the numerous anecdotes which have come down 
to us of the social life of Newport at this period, but we 
must hasten on to the eventful story of later days. Before 
we glance at this, the Revolutionary epoch, no less in the 
fortunes and fate of Newport than in the political character 
of the country, let us hastily chronicle the names of yet a 
few others whose lives have shed lustre upon the place, as 
that of Gilbert Stuart, the illustrious painter, and of Ed- 
ward Malbone, another estimable artist, and of yet a third, 
the venerable Charles B. King. The eloquent voice of Chan- 
ning was often heard on the old isle of Aquidneck, and his 
homestead is among the picturesque relics of the region. So, 
also, are the home and tomb of Oliver Hazard Perry, the 
illustrious Commodore of the Lake. 



2o6 NEWPORT 

It was thus, under the most propitious breezes of fortune, 
material and moral, ruffled only in earlier years by the 
neighbouring wars of King Philip, and the still earlier ru- 
mours of war between the French and Indians in the north, 
that old Newport lived from her birth to the troublesome 
'days of the Revolution, which robbed her of her population 
and wealth, never to come back again by the old path of 
commercial enterprise and success. 

The only action which may properly be called a battle 
that happened in Rhode Island during the Revolution, was 
fought, with no decided success on either side, on Butt's or 
Quaker hill, in Portsmouth, the original settlement of the 
island. Yet the people were staunch adherents of the pop- 
ular cause, and many opportunities came for the display of 
their gallantry and valour at home as well as abroad. Long 
before the actual commencement of hostilities, they per- 
formed the first overt act of resistance which was made in 
the Colonies to the royal authority, by the summary de- 
struction of the armed sloop Liberty, in return for her 
rude treatment of a vessel from an adjoining colony, and 
of themselves when they demanded atonement therefor. 
The incensed Newporters boarded the Liberty, cut her 
cables, and let her drift out to Goat Island, where she was 
soon afterward burnt during a heavy thunder-storm. Sub- 
sequently to this act there occurred, further up the bay, the 
similar exploit of Gaspee Point, in which the obnoxious toll- 
gathering craft, the Gaspee, was adroitly persuaded to run 
upon the unknown, hidden sands, and while thus helpless, 
was destroyed by a rebellious party from Providence. Not 
less daring was the attack of the Pigot by the crew of 
the little sloop Hawk, on the east side of the island. 
Nothing, either, could have been more neatly done than the 
bold seizure of the British commander Prescott, at his own 
head-quarters at Portmouth, when Colonel Barton, of 



NEWPORT 207 

Providence, and a few trusty fellows dropped down the bay 
at night, under the noses of the enemy's ships, and mastering 
the sentinels, coolly took the old tyrant from his bed and 
carried him, without superfluous toilette, again beneath the 
shadow of the British vessels, to the American camp. The 
General himself said at the moment to his gallant captor: 
" Sir, you have made a bold push to-night! " 

The first threat of war against Rhode Island was made 
in the fall of 1775, when Admiral Wallace, who commanded 
an English fleet in the harbour at the time, seemed to be 
preparing to carry off the live stock at the southern end of 
the island for the supply of the royal troops in Boston. 
Foiled seasonably in his project, he swore vengeance against 
the town, frightening away half of its inhabitants, and 
sorely terrifying the rest, until a compromise was made by 
furnishing him certain supplies and stores. He then pro- 
ceeded up the bay, leaving desolation wherever his demands 
were denied. In the following spring (1776), Wallace 
was, by a spirited effort, driven out of the harbour of New- 
port; but before Christmas of that same year there came a 
British fleet, under Sir Peter Parker, from which nine or 
ten thousand troops, English and Hessians, were landed at 
Middletown, five miles from Newport; and hereabouts the 
intruders stayed until the Autumn of 1779, now in their 
camp, and now quartered upon the inhabitants of the towns, 
but, in camp or not, always aggressive and destructive; so 
that at their final departure they left only ruin and dismay 
where they had found prosperity and happy content. On 
abandoning the island, after their three years' possession, they 
completed the destruction they had begun and continued by 
burning the barracks at Fort Adams and the light-house at 
Beavertail Point, and by bearing away the town records, 
which were subsequently regained, but in such condition 
as to be of little use. The churches had been used and abused 



208 NEWPORT 

as barracks; the Redwood Library was robbed of its treas- 
ures; hundreds of buildings had been destroyed, and of all 
the beautiful trees which formerly adorned the island, 
scarcely one remained. 

The investment of the island by the British, and the grad- 
ual wreck which iresulted from wanton destruction and 
from the continual defence of their position, reduced the 
population from twelve to four thousand, desolated the 
country, and ruined Newport, despite the brilliant flicker 
of life which followed, in the gay occupancy of the town 
by the French troops under Rochambeau and the Admiral 
de Ternay. 

A brave but futile attempt had been made the previous 
autumn (August, 1778), with the co-operation of a French 
fleet, under D'Estaing, to expel the enemy from Rhode 
Island. The people now confidently hoped for release from 
the yoke which had so long galled them, but with the ex- 
ception of a little manceuvering, and sailing to and fro, 
and the sinking of some boats as obstructions to the naviga- 
tion, nothing of great moment happened on the water, and 
nothing on the land but the action (during the retreat of 
of the Americans) at Butt's hill, already alluded to as the 
only battle of the Revolution fought upon Rhode Island 
soil. In this attempt, from ten to fifteen thousand of the 
patriot troops were engaged, under the command of Gen- 
erals Greene and Sullivan. They crossed over from the 
main-land to the upper end of Aquidneck, at Tiverton. 
The failure of the expedition is attributed to the want of 
prompt and energetic aid on the part of the Count d'Estaing. 
The coming of the second French fleet, under De Ternay, 
though not required now to drive the enemy from their 
threshold, was no less warmly hailed than had been that of 
D'Estaing before. It entered Newport harbour on the 10th 
of July, 1780, amidst the acclamations of the populace. 



NEWPORT 209 

Scarcely, however, was Rochambeau established in his head- 
quarters, at the old "Vernon house" (yet standing), when 
news came of the approach of the enemy's blockading 
squadron. As in the case of previous rumours of war, how- 
ever, no engagement followed, and the French officers were 
left to display their gallantry in the drawing- and ballroom, 
to the high edification of the beautiful belles of the day and 
place, instead of their prowess in the tented field. They 
went, at last, and finally, during the following year (1781), 
and Newport was left without any new troubles, to mourn 
over the crushing and fatal issue of her past misfortunes. 

During the French occupancy of the town, Washington 
was received there amidst a general illumination, and such 
rejoicings as the depressed hearts of the people allowed. 
He was entertained at the head-quarters of the Count de 
Rochambeau, in the present " Old Vernon House." The com- 
mander of the fleet, the Count de Ternay, died here, and 
was buried with great pomp in the cemetery of Trinity 
Church. 

Thus brilliantly ended the Revolutionary story of New- 
port. The brightness, though, made the gloomy night which 
followed only the darker; for, as the gay ships sailed away, 
so passed the last ray of the old sunshine of success in which 
the now desolate and almost deserted town had so long and 
so joyously lived. 

There is little to be said of Newport during the half- 
century between the close of the Revolution and her mem- 
orable social renaissance, about the year 1840. This was 
the dark age in her eventful history, in which the wearied 
and worn old town seemed to doze her crippled life away, 
without effort and without hope. No longer was the daring 
whaler seen entering her harbour covered with the slime 
of distant seas; no more were her warehouses crowded with 
the rich fabrics and produces of the far-off Indies; no longer 



210 NEWPORT 

echoed the cheerful hum of industry, and her houses — what 
remained of them — were so deserted that it became, with 
the unsympathizing around, a jest to say that with the 
tenants' privileges in Newport was the liberty to use such 
portions of his dwelling as he pleased for his daily fuel! 

In process of time " the pleasant light of stars " shone out, 
and the town reawakened at last to the new and yet brighter 
dawning which gradually followed. Other ports had in 
the interval supplanted her in her old commercial position, 
but the original secrets of her success were again remem- 
bered — the beauties of her rocky shores, and the marvellous 
sweetness of her climate. In summer days, many come to 
enjoy these enviable pleasures. Year by year the number 
of these visitors increased, until the annual " arrivals " 
swelled from tens to hundreds and from hundreds to thou- 
sands. Many of the strangers, not contented with their 
brief summer stay, took up their permanent abode in the 
town, replacing the old dwellings with sumptuous villas, here 
one and there another, until at last there grew up the long 
spacious streets of cottage and castle which now form the 
new and beautiful Newport that looks down so encourag- 
ingly from its hilly terrace upon the old town basking by 
the lazy sea. 

In this renewed prosperity the old taverns and inns grew 
by-and-by to be insufficient for the accommodation of the 
coming throngs, and some twenty years ago there began to 
spring up the great hotels, which are now annually over- 
run with all that is most gay and most dazzling of the 
luxury, the elegance, the pomp, the parade, and the fashion 
of the land. With the erection of the Ocean House in 1845, 
the new life of Newport was fairly begun, and her position 
as one of the great national watering-places of the Republic 
forever assured. 



THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 
JOHN KNOX 

GREAT preparations are making, throughout the fleet 
and army, to surprise the enemy, and compel them 
to decide the fate of Quebec by a battle: all the long-boats 
below the town are to be filled with seamen, marines, 
and such detachments as can be spared from Points Levi 
and Orleans, in order to make a feint off Beauport and the 
Point de Lest, and endeavour to engross the attention of 
the Sieur de Montcalm, while the army are to force a de- 
scent on this side of the town. The Officer of our regiment, 
who commanded the escort yesterday on the reconnoitering 
party, being asked, in the General's hearing, after the health 
of one of the gentlemen who was reported to be ill, replied, 
" He was in a very low, indifferent state " ; which the other 
lamented, saying, " He has but a puny, delicate constitution." 
This struck his Excellency, it being his own case, who in- 
terrupted, " Don't tell me of constitution, the Officer has 
good spirits, and good spirits will carry a man through every- 
thing." 

The Brigadiers Monckton and Murray, with the troops 
under their command, reimbarked this day from the parish 
of St. Nicholas, and returned to their ships. This evening 
all the boats of the fleet below the town were filled with 
marines, etc., covered by frigates and sloops of war, 
worked up, and lay half-channel over, opposite to Beau- 
port, as if intending to land in the morning, and thereby 
fix the enemy's whole attention to that quarter; the ships 
attending them are to edge over, at break of day, as near 



212 THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 

as possible without grounding, and cannonade the French 
intrenchments. At nine o'clock this night, our army in 
high spirits, the first division of them put into the flat-bot- 
tomed boats, and, in a short time after, the whole squadron 
moved up the river with the tide of flood, and, about an 
hour before day-light next morning, we fell down with the 
ebb. Weather favourable, a star-light night. 

Thursday, September 13, 1759. 
Before daybreak this morning we made a descent upon 
the north shore, about half a quarter of a mile to the east- 
ward of Sillery; and the light troops were fortunately, by 
the rapidity of the current, carried lower down, between 
us and Cape Diamond ; we had, in this debarkation, thirty 
flat-bottomed boats, containing about sixteen hundred men. 
This was a great surprise on the enemy, who, from the 
natural strength of the place, did not suspect, and conse- 
quently were not prepared against, so bold an attempt. The 
chain of sentries, which they had posted along the summit 
of the heights, galled us a little, and picked off several men, 
and some Officers, before our light infantry got up to dis- 
lodge them. This grand enterprise was conducted and ex- 
ecuted with great order and discretion ; as fast as we landed, 
the boats put off for reinforcements, and the troops formed 
with much regularity: The General, with Brigadiers 
Monckton and Murray, were a-shore with the first division. 
We lost no time here, but clambered up one of the steepest 
precipices that can be conceived, being almost a perpendicular 
and of an incredible height. As soon as we gained the sum- 
mit, all was quiet, and not a shot was heard, owing to the 
excellent conduct of the light infantry under Colonel Howe ; 
it was by this time clear daylight. Here we formed 
again, the river and the south country in our rear, our right 
extending to the town, our left to Sillery, and halted a few 



THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 213 

minutes. The General then detached the light troops to 
our left to route the enemy from their battery, and to dis- 
able their guns, except they could be rendered serviceable 
to the party who were to remain there; and this service 
was soon performed. We then faced to the right, and 
marched towards the town by files, till we came to the Plains 
of Abraham — an even piece of ground which Mr. Wolfe 
made choice of, while we stood forming upon the hill. 
Weather showery: about six o'clock the enemy first made 
their appearance upon the height, between us and the town; 
whereupon we halted, and wheeled to the right, thereby 
forming the line of battle. The enemy had now likewise 
formed the line of battle, and got some cannon to play on 
us, with round and canister-shot; but what galled us most 
was a body of Indians and other marksmen they had con- 
cealed in the corn opposite to the front of our right wing, 
and a coppice, that stood opposite to our centre, inclining 
towards our left; but the Colonel Hale, by Brigadier 
Monckton's orders, advanced some platoons, alternately from 
the Forty-Seventh regiment, which, after a few rounds 
obliged these sculkers to retire: we were now ordered to 
lie down, and remained some time in this position. About 
eight o'clock we had two pieces of short brass six pounders 
playing on the enemy, which threw them into some con- 
fusion, and obliged them to alter their disposition, and 
Montcalm formed them into three large columns; about 
nine the two armies moved a little nearer each other. The 
light cavalry made a faint attempt upon our parties at the 
battery of Sillery, but were soon beat off, and Monsieur de 
Bougainville, with his troops from Cape Rouge, came down 
to attack the flank of our second line, hoping to penetrate 
there; but by a masterly disposition of Brigadier Towns- 
hend, they were forced to desist, and the third battalion of 
Royal Americans was then detached to the first ground we 



214 THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 

had formed on after we had gained the heights, to preserve 
the communication with the beach and our boats. About 
ten o'clock the enemy began to advance briskly in three 
columns, with loud shouts and recovered arms, two of them 
inclining to the left of our army, and the third towards our 
right, firing obliquely at the two extremities of our line, 
from the distance of one hundred and thirty, — until they 
came within forty yards; which our troops withstood with 
the greatest intrepidity and firmness, still reserving their 
fire, and paying the strictest obedience to their Officers: 
this uncommon steadiness, together with the havoc which 
the grape-shot from our field-pieces made among them, threw 
them into some disorder, and was most critically main- 
tained by a well-timed, regular, and heavy discharge of our 
small arms, such as they could no longer oppose; hereupon 
they gave way, and fled with precipitation, so that, by the 
time the cloud of smoke was vanished, our men were again 
loaded, and, profiting by the advantage we had over them, 
pursued them almost to the gates of the town, and the 
bridge over the little river, redoubling our fire with great 
eagerness, making many Officers and men prisoners. The 
weather cleared up, with a comfortable warm sun-shine: 
the Highlanders chased them vigorously towards Charles's 
River, and the Fifty-Eighth to the suburb close to John's 
Gate, until they were checked by the cannon from the two 
hulks; at the same time a gun, which the town had brought 
to bear upon us with grape-shot, galled the progress of the 
regiments to the right, who were likewise pursuing with 
equal ardour, while Colonel Hunt Walsh, by a very judi- 
cious movement, wheeled the battalions of Bragg and Ken- 
nedy to the left, and flanked the coppice where a body of 
the enemy made a stand, as if willing to renew the action; 
but a few platoons from these corps completed our victory. 
Then it was that Brigadier Townshend came up, called 



THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 215 

off the pursuers, ordered the whole line to dress, and re- 
cover their former ground. Our joy at this success is inex- 
pressibly dampened by the loss we sustained of one of the 
greatest heroes which this or any other age can boast of — 
General James Wolfe, who received his mortal wound, as 
he was exerting himself at the head of the grenadiers of 
Louisburg. 

The Sieur de Montcalm died late last night; when his 
wound was dressed, and he settled in bed, the surgeons who 
attended him were desired to acquaint him ingenuously with 
their sentiments of him, and, being answered that his wound 
was mortal, he calmly replied, "he was glad of it": his 
Excellency then demanded, " whether he could survive it 
long, and how long?" He was told, "about a dozen hours, 
perhaps more, peradventure less." " So much the better," re- 
joined the eminent warrior; " I am happy, I shall not live to 
see the surrender of Quebec." After our late worthy general 
of renowned memory was carried off wounded, to the rear of 
the front line, he desired those who were about him to lay him 
down ; being asked if he would have a surgeon ? he replied, " it 
is needless; it is all over with me." One of them cried out, 
"they run, see how they run." "Who runs?" demanded 
our hero, with great earnestness, like a person roused from 
sleep. The Officer answered, " The enemy, sir. Egad, 
they give way everywhere ! " Thereupon the General re- 
joined, "Go one of you, my lads, to Colonel Burton; 
tell him to march Webb's regiment with all speed dozen to 
Charles's River, to cut off the retreat of the fugitives from 
the bridge." Then, turning on his side, he added, "Now, 
God be praised, I will die in peace," and thus expired. 



DETROIT 
J. T. HEADLEY 

THE elevated belt of inland seas which stretches from 
the St. Lawrence to the tenth parallel of west longi- 
tude has always formed one of the most striking and im- 
portant features of this continent. At the outset, when an 
unbroken forest extended, in the southern section, from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific, through which the settler must hew 
his difficult way with the axe, he could, by these great in- 
land seas, penetrate to its very centre. The French, who 
claimed the Canadas by right of discovery, extended their 
exploration to Michilimackinac, and thence south to the 
mouth of the Mississippi. But the English colonies, push- 
ing in from the Atlantic seaboard, south of the St. Law- 
rence, forced them back, till the lakes and the river became 
the boundary-line between the two, and the scene of bloody 
conflicts. So in the Revolution a fiercer struggle took place 
along this belt of water. 

The French early saw that the Detroit River was a min- 
iature Straits of Gibraltar to all the water that lay beyond, 
and, as far back as 1701, established there its most impor- 
tant western station. It was composed of a military colony, 
extending for twelve or sixteen miles up and down the 
west bank of the river, in the centre of which stood the 
fort, a quadrilateral structure embracing about a hundred 
houses. Numerous white dwellings lay scattered along the 
banks, each surrounded with a picket-fence, while orchards 
and gardens and outhouses exhibited the thrift of the Cana- 
dian settlers. It altogether formed a beautiful and sunny 

216 



DETROIT 217 

opening to the gloomy wilderness; and to the trader and 
soldier, weary with their long marches and solitary bivouacs 
in the forest, it was ever a most welcome sight. Three large 
Indian villages were embraced in the limits of the settlement. 
A little below the fort, and on the same side of the river, 
were the lodges of the Pottawatamies ; nearly opposite 
them, those of the Wyandots; while two miles farther up 
lay sprinkled over the green meadows the wigwams of the 
Ottawas. 

The French and English struggled long and stubbornly 
for the control of the Western continent, but at last the de- 
cisive conflict came, when the Canadas were put up and 
battled for on the Plains of Abraham. With the fall of 
Montcalm, the French power was forever broken; and the 
surrender of Montreal, which soon followed, virtually 
closed the war. The St. Lawrence and the Lakes now 
being in possession of the English, nothing remained for 
the weak Western posts but to submit quietly to their 
new masters. 

The news of the overthrow of the colonial government 
had reached them, but having received no formal summons 
to surrender, they still kept the flag of France flying; and 
Captain Rogers, a native of New Hampshire, was sent with 
200 Rangers, in fifteen whaleboats, to take possession of 
them. On the 7th of November he encamped on the pres- 
ent site of Cleveland — a point never before reached by 
British troops. Here a deputation of Indians met him, in 
the name of Pontiac, the savage lord of this wilderness. 
Before night the chief himself arrived, and demanded the 
reason of Rogers's visit. The latter told him that the French 
had ceded all Canada to the British, who now had undis- 
puted sway, and he was on his way to take possession of 
Detroit. Pontiac stayed till morning, and in another inter- 
view with the Ranger professed a desire for peace. Rogers 



218 DETROIT 

then kept on, and at length reached Detroit, over which the 
lilies of France were still waving. The British colours at 
once supplanted them, and the surrounding Canadians swore 
allegiance to the British crown. 

The Indians, who had been on the most friendly terms 
with the French, soon had cause to regret their change of 
masters. The English always practiced a cruel policy 
towards the Indians, which soon showed its legitimate fruits 
among the tribes in the neighbourhood of Detroit. There 
was one chief among them who held undisputed sway by 
the force of his genius and the loftiness of his character. 
Like Tecumseh and Red Jacket, he was one of those few 
savage monarchs that seem made for a nobler destiny than 
to be acknowledged leader of a few thousand naked bar- 
barians. He saw, with great forecast of thought, the hu- 
miliation of the Indians if the British were allowed undis- 
puted sway; for, with the French no longer as allies, he 
could not resist successfully their aggressions. He resolved, 
therefore, before the British got firmer foothold, to over- 
whelm them with savage forces, trusting to French aid to 
complete the work. So, in May, 1762, he sent messengers 
to the various surrounding tribes, summoning them to as- 
semble for consultation on the banks of Ecorces River, a 
short distance from Detroit. 

Pontiac was chief only of the Ottawas, though the other 
tribes acknowledged his authority. He was at this time 
about fifty years of age, and though not above the middle 
height, bore himself with wonderful dignity. 

The tribes responded to Pontiac's call. Soon the fierce 
Ojibwas and Wyandots assembled at the place of rendez- 
vous, and took their seats upon the grass in a circle. For 
a long time not a word was spoken in the council. At last 
Pontiac strode into its midst, plumed and painted for war. 
Casting his fierce glance around on the waiting group, he 



DETROIT 219 

commenced denouncing the English and calling on the 
chiefs to arise in defence of their rights. His voice at times 
pealed like a bugle, and his gestures were sudden and vio- 
lent. After arousing his chiefs by his eloquence, he un- 
folded his plans. 

He proposed that on the second of May they should visit 
the fort, under pretence of interchanging friendly and peace- 
ful greetings; and then when the garrison was suspecting 
no treachery, suddenly fall on them and massacre the whole. 
They all readily assented to his scheme. 

Gladwyn, commander of the fort, had seen nothing to 
rouse his suspicions, and everything betokened a quiet sum- 
mer, until, just before this premeditated massacre, when a 
Canadian woman, who had visited the Ottawa village to 
buy some venison and maple sugar, reported that, as she 
was passing among the wigwams, she observed the warriors 
busily engaged in filing off their gun-barrels. 

Among the Ojibwas was a young Indian girl, named 
Catherine, of rare beauty and exquisite form. Large dark 
and dreamy eyes lighted up her nut-brown complexion, re- 
vealing a loving and passionate nature, while her moccasined 
foot pressed the green sward light and gracefully as a young 
fawn's. Struck with her exquisite loveliness, Gladwyn had 
become enamoured of her; and his passion being returned, 
she had become his mistress. The next day after the re- 
port of the woman was made, this girl came into the fort 
bringing some elk-skin moccasins, which she had worked 
with porcupine quills, as a present for Gladwyn. 

Her pertinacity and the melancholy manner in which she 
resisted his importunities convinced him that she held a 
secret of serious import, and he pressed her still more ear- 
nestly. At last her firmness gave way before his warm 
pleadings, and the loving heart triumphed over its fears. 
She no longer saw her angry tribe and the vengeful chief- 



220 DETROIT 

tains demanding her death as the betrayer of her race. She 
only saw the adored form of her lover before her, and her 
lips broke their painful silence. 

Making him promise not to betray her secret, she told 
him that the Indians had sawed off their gun-barrels so that 
they could carry them concealed under their blankets; and 
Pontiac, with his chiefs thus armed, was about to visit the 
fort to hold a council. He would make a speech, and at 
its close present to Gladwyn a peace-belt of wampum. 
When he reversed it in his hands, it was to be the signal 
for a general massacre of all but the Canadians. 

When the welcome light of morning broke over the 
forest, all was bustle and commotion within the fort. The 
sun rose bright and clear; but a heavy mist lay along the 
river, entirely shrouding it from view. At length the heavy 
folds began to move and lift, and finally parted and floated 
gracefully away on the morning air, revealing the water 
covered with bark canoes moving steadily across the river. 
Only two or three warriors appeared in each, the others 
lying flat on their faces on the bottom, to avoid being seen. 
Pontiac had ordered this to be done, so as not to awaken any 
suspicions in the garrison that his mission was not what 
he represented it to be — a peaceful one. He could not leave 
them behind, for he would need them in the approaching 
conflict. There was a large common behind the fort; this 
was soon filled with a crowd of Indians — squaws, children, 
and warriors mingled together — some naked, some dressed 
in fantastic costumes, or gaudily painted, and all apparently 
preparing for a game of ball. Pontiac slowly approached 
the fort, with sixty chiefs at his back marching in Indian 
file. Each was wrapped to the chin in his blanket, under- 
neath which, grasped with his right hand, lay concealed his 
trusty rifle. From the heads of some waved the hawk, the 
eagle, and raven plume. Others showed only the scalp-lock, 



DETROIT 221 

while a few wore their hair naturally — the long dark locks 
hanging wildly about their malignant faces. 

As Pontiac passed through the gate of the fort he uttered 
a low ejaculation of surprise. Well might he do so; for 
the unexpected sight that met his gaze would have startled 
a greater stoic even than he. Instead of beholding the gar- 
rison lulled into security, and entirely off its guard, he found 
himself between two lines of glittering steel, drawn up on 
each side of the gate to receive him. The houses of the 
traders and those employed by the garrison were all closed, 
and the occupants, armed to the teeth, standing on guard 
upon the corners of the streets; while the tap of the drum, 
heard at intervals, told in language that Pontiac could not 
mistake that the garrison, which he expected to find care- 
less and insecure, was in a state of the keenest vigilance and 
apparent alarm. Casting a dark and moody glance around 
on these hostile preparations, he strode haughtily through 
the principal street of the place, and advanced direct to the 
council-house, followed by his chiefs. 

Passing through the door he saw Gladwyn and the other 
officers seated at the farther end, each with his sword by 
his side, and a brace of pistols in his belt. Pontiac's brow 
darkened at this additional proof that his treacherous and 
bloody plot had been discovered. Controlling himself, how- 
ever, by a strong effort, he rallied, and addressing Gladwyn, 
said, in a somewhat reproachful tone, " Why do I see so 
many of my father's young men standing in the streets with 
their guns?" Gladwyn replied carelessly that he had just 
been drilling them to keep up proper discipline. Pontiac 
knew this to be false; but he could not do otherwise than 
appear to believe it, and the chiefs sat down. Pontiac then 
arose and began his address — holding in the meantime the 
fatal wampum belt in his hand. Gladwyn paid indifferent 
attention to his speech, but kept his eye glued to that belt 



222 DETROIT 

of wampum; for when the deadly signal should be given, 
no time must be lost. Pontiac spoke with all that plausi- 
bility and deep dissumulation so characteristic of the Indian 
when plotting treachery. 

Pontiac slowly reached forth his hand, and began to 
reverse the wampum. Gladwyn saw it, and quick as 
lightning, made a slight, rapid gesture — a signal before 
agreed upon. In an instant even- hand sought the sword 
hilt, and the quick clank of arms through the open door 
smote ominously on the ear. The next moment the roll- 
ing sound of the drum, beating the charge, echoed afar 
through the streets. The effect was electrical. Pontiac 
paused, confounded. He now knew that his dark plot had 
been discovered. The look of baffled rage and undying 
hate which he threw around him was followed by an un- 
certain, disturbed look. He dared not make the signal 
agreed upon, for a girdle of steel surrounded him. The 
lion was caged; the haughty lord of the forest caught in 
his own trap. But beating back his swelling rage, smothering 
with a strong effort the fires ready to burst into conflagra- 
tion, he resumed his composure, and sat down. Gladwyn 
rose to reply. Indulging in no suspicions, he received the 
belt of wampum as if it had been offered in the true spirit 
of conciliation and kindness. Pontiac was compelled to 
swallow his fierce passions and listen calmly — nay, outwardly 
with meekness — to the hypocritical harangue. The farce 
was the more striking for its being the finale of such an 
intended tragedy. These two men, burning with hatred 
against each other, yet wearing the outward guise of friend- 
ship, and expressing mutual trust and confidence — while 
such an unsprung mine of death and slaughter lay at their 
feet — presented a scene not soon to be forgotten by the spec- 
tators. At length the council broke up; and Pontiac, cast- 
ing haughty and fierce glances on the ranks as he passed 



DETROIT 223 

out, strode through the gate of the fort, and returned, silent 
and moody to his wigwam. 

Determined not to be baffled so, he next morning re- 
turned to the fort, with but three chiefs, to smoke the cal- 
umet of peace, and another farce was enacted, in which each 
endeavoured to outdo the other in dissimulation. 

To keep up this show of friendly relations, Pontiac, after 
the interview was over, retired to the field, and calling his 
young warriors together, had one of their wild, grotesque, 
indescribable games of ball. The next Monday, early in 
the morning, the garrison found the common behind the fort 
thronged with the Indians of four tribes. Soon after, Pon- 
tiac was seen advancing toward the fort accompanied by his 
chiefs. Arriving at the gate, he demanded admittance. 
Gladwyn replied that he might enter alone, but that none 
of his riotous crew should accompany him. Pontiac, in his 
rage, turned away, and repeated Gladwyn's reply to the 
Indians, who lay hidden in the grass. In an instant the 
field was in an uproar. They leaped up, yelling and shout- 
ing, and finding nothing else to wreak their vengeance upon, 
went to the house of an old English woman, and, dragging 
her forth, murdered her. They also mangled and butchered 
a man by the name of Fisher. Pontiac, scorning such mean 
revenge, hastened to the shore, and launching his boat, 
sprang in, and turned its prow up the stream. With strong 
and steady strokes he urged it against the current till he 
came opposite the village of his tribe, when he halted, and 
shouted to the women to immediately remove to the other 
side of the river from that on which the fort stood. They 
instantly obeyed ; and huts were pulled down and dragged 
with all their utensils to the shore. Pontiac then retired 
to his cabin, and spent the day pondering future schemes of 
revenge. By night the removal was effected ; and the war- 
riors having returned from the fort, all were assembled on 



224 DETROIT 

the grass. Suddenly Pontiac, in full war costume, and 
swinging his tomahawk above his head, leaped into their 
midst, and began a fierce and exciting harangue. When he 
had closed, a deep murmur of assent followed, and open war 
was resolved upon. 

The long and weary summer at length wore away, and 
the frosty nights and chilling winds of autumn reminded the 
garrison of the approach of winter, when they would be 
blocked in beyond all hope of succour. The Indians had neg- 
lected their crops; and they, too, began to look anxiously 
forward to the winter, for which they were poorly provided. 
At the end of September several of the tribes broke up their 
camps and left. Pontiac, however, remained ; and though 
he dared not attack the fort, he kept the garrison as closely 
confined as they would have been if besieged by an army 
of ten thousand men. The beautiful month of October 
passed like the sultry summer. The farmers had gathered 
in their harvests; the forest had put on the glorious hues 
of autumn, till the wilderness was one immense carpet of 
purple and gold and green. The placid stream reflected, 
if possible, in still brighter colours, the gorgeous foliage that 
overhung its banks; and when the mellow breeze ruffled 
its surface, broke up the rich flooring into ten thousand 
fragments and forms, till it looked like a vast kaleidoscope. 
The dreamy haze of the Indian Summer overspread the 
landscape; the forest rustled with falling leaves; the wild- 
fowl gathered in the stream, or swept in clouds overhead, 
winging their way to the distant ocean ; and all was wild 
and beautiful in that far-off island of the wilderness. But 
all this beauty passed unnoticed by the little beleaguered 
garrison. 

At length the cold storms swept the wilderness, filling 
the heavens with leaves, and scattering them thick as snow- 
flakes over the bosom of the stream, until the gayly decorated 



DETROIT 225 

forest stood naked and brown against the sky. Still Pon- 
tiac lingered, determined to starve his enemies out. But 
as November approached he received a message from Fort 
Chartres, on the Mississippi, which, at the same time that 
it filled his daring spirit with rage, crushed his fondest hopes. 
It was a despatch from the French commander at that post, 
telling him that he must no longer look for help from that 
quarter, as the French and English had made peace. En- 
raged and mortified, he broke up his camp and retired with 
his warriors to the Maumee. 



THE ALAMO 
HENRY BRUCE 

THE Alamo was an old Franciscan Mission, dating 
from the beginning of the Eighteenth Century. It 
was surrounded by walls three feet thick, and eight feet 
high. It covered, altogether, an area of nearly three acres. 
It contained a roofless church of hewn stone, and several 
other buildings, and was defended by fourteen guns. The 
garrison consisted of one hundred and forty-five men, be- 
sides some non-combatants, and these were increased on 
the 1st of March, 1836, or, according to Crockett, on the 
24th of February, by about thirty men from Gonzalez. 
There was a plentiful supply of water from two aqueducts, 
which quickly became the special object of the enemies' at- 
tack. Colonel Travis is said to have been most careless 
from the first; it was to his own surprise that a large store 
of provisions was discovered in the Alamo after the siege 
had begun. But listen to the ring of one or two of his 
latest letters: " I am still here, March 3rd, in fine spirits, 
and well to do. With one hundred and forty-five men, I 
have held this place ten days against a force variously esti- 
mated from fifteen hundred to six thousand; and I shall 
continue to hold it till I get relief from my countrymen, 
or I will perish in its defence. We have had a shower of 
bombs and cannon-balls continually falling among us the 
whole time, yet none of us have fallen." And again: " Take 
care of my little boy. If the country should be saved, I 
may make him a splendid fortune ; but if the country should 
be lost, and I should perish, he will have nothing but the 

226 



THE ALAMO 227 

proud recollection that he is the son of a man who died for 
his country." The members of the garrison were insubor- 
dinate, and of a quality more willing to die with their young 
commander than to obey him. 

There is a tragical completeness and grandeur about the 
story of the defence and of the fall of the Alamo, which makes 
me unwilling to give any fragments of it here. We have 
the journal of the gentle David Crockett until the 5th of 
March, and his details bring the last days of these devoted 
Texans very close to us. It is only the story of one hun- 
dred and seventy-five bad-mannered backwoodsmen perish- 
ing for their disobedience of General Houston's orders ; and 
yet there is a divine irradiation over it all. The Alamo 
was taken in the earliest morning of Sunday, the 6th of 
March, 1836, and Travis, Bowie, Crockett, with all their 
companions, were butchered by Santa Anna's particular 
command. 

The Convention, which was sitting at Washington on 
the Brazos during these days, was driven almost mad by 
terror and by Travis's reiterated messages for help. Gen- 
eral Austin was in the United States; one is tempted more 
and more to believe that General Houston was the one man 
in Texas not altogether demented. On the morning of 
Sunday, March 6th, the latest express ever sent out by 
Colonel Travis reached the Convention, crying for help. 
One mad member moved that the Convention should ad- 
journ and march to the relief of the Alamo — more than 
one hundred and fifty miles — fifty men against eight thou- 
sand! The Convention was proceeding to adjourn accord- 
ingly, and it strained all Houston's personal influence to 
stamp out the proposition. For what followed we must 
trust the words and the authority of Mr. Lester: 

" Houston stopped speaking, and walked immediately out 
of the Convention. In less than an hour he was mounted on 



228 THE ALAMO 

his battle-horse, and with three or four brave companions 
was on his way to the Alamo. Men looked upon it as an 
idle and desperate attempt, or surely more would have fol- 
lowed him. The party rode hard that day, and only stopped 
late at night to rest their horses. They were now in the 
open prairie. At break of day Houston retired some dis- 
tance from the party and listened intently, as if expeeting a 
distant signal. Colonel Travis had stated in his letters that 
as long as the Alamo could hold out against the invaders, 
signal guns would be fired at sunrise. It is a well authenti- 
cated fact that for many successive days these guns had been 
heard at a distance of over one hundred miles across the 
prairie; and being now within the reach of their sound, 
Houston was anxiously waiting for the expected signal. The 
day before, like many preceding it, a dull, rumbling mur- 
mur had come booming over the prairie like distant thunder. 
He listened with an acuteness of sense which no man can 
understand whose hearing has not been sharpened by the 
teachings of the dwellers of the forest, and who is awaiting 
a signal of life or death from brave men. He listened in 
vain. Not the faintest murmur came floating on the calm 
morning air. He knew the Alamo had fallen, and he re- 
turned to tell his companions. The event confirmed his 
conviction, for the Alamo had fired its last gun the morning 
he left Washington ; and at the very moment he was speaking 
in the Convention those brave men were meeting their fate." 



SAVANNAH 
BENSON JOHN LOSSING 

O AVANNAH is pleasantly situated upon a sand-bluff, 
^ some forty feet above low-water mark, sloping toward 
swamps and savannahs at a lower altitude in the interior. 
It is upon the south side of the river, about eighteen miles 
from the ocean. The city is laid out in rectangles, and has 
ten public squares. The streets are generally broad and 
well-shaded, some of them with four rows of Pride-of-India 
trees, which, in summer, add greatly to the beauty of the 
city and comfort of the inhabitants. Before noting the 
localities of interest in Savannah and suburbs, let us open 
the interesting pages of its history, and note their teachings 
respecting Georgia in general, and of the capital in par- 
ticular, whose foundations were laid by General Oglethorpe. 
We will here refer only to the single circumstance con- 
nected with the earlier efforts at settlement, which some 
believe to be well authenticated, namely, that Sir Walter 
Raleigh, when on his way to the Orinoco, in South America, 
entered the Savannah River, and upon the bluff where the 
city now stands, stood and talked with the Indian king. 
There are reasonable doubts of the truth of this statement. 

As late as 1730, the territory lying between the Savannah 
and Altamaha Rivers was entirely uninhabited by white 
people. On the south the Spaniards held possession, and 
on the west the French had Louisiana, while the region 
under consideration, partially filled with powerful Indian 
tribes, was claimed by Great Britain. To prevent France 
and Spain from occupying it (for the latter already began 

229 



230 SAVANNAH 

to claim territory even north of the Savannah), and as a pro- 
tection to the Carolina planters against the encroachments 
of their hostile neighbours, various schemes of emigration 
thither were proposed, but without being effected. Finally, 
in 1729, General James Oglethorpe, a valorous soldier and 
humane Christian, then a member of Parliament, made a 
proposition in that body for the founding of a colony to be 
composed of poor persons who were confined for debt and 
minor offences in the prisons of England. He instituted an 
inquiry into their condition, which resulted in the convic- 
tion that their situation would be more tolerable in the 
position of a military colony, acting as a barrier between the 
Carolinians and their troublesome neighbours, than in the 
moral contamination and physical miseries of prison life. 
The class of persons whom he designed to transplant to 
America were not wicked criminals, but chiefly insolvent 
debtors. 

Oglethorpe also proposed to make the new colony 
an asylum for the persecuted Protestants of Germany and 
other Continental states, and in this religious idea he in- 
cluded the pious thought of spiritual benefit to the Indian 
tribes. The Earl of Shaftsbury (the fourth bearing that 
title) and other influential men warmly espoused the scheme, 
and a general enthusiasm upon the subject soon pervaded the 
nation. A royal charter was obtained in 1732 for twenty- 
one years; large sums were subscribed by individuals; and 
in the course of two years, Parliament voted one hundred 
and eighty thousand dollars in support of the scheme. 

Oglethorpe volunteered to act as governor of the new 
colony, and to accompany the settlers to their destination. 
Accordingly, in November, 1732, he embarked with one 
hundred and twenty emigrants, and in fifty-seven days ar- 
rived off the bar of Charleston. He was warmly welcomed 
by the Carolinians, and on the thirteenth of January he 



SAVANNAH 231 

sailed for Port Royal. While the colonists were landing, 
Oglethorpe, with a few followers, proceeded southward, 
ascended the Savannah River to the high bluff, and there 
selected a spot for a city, the capital of the future state. 
With the Yamacraw Indians, half a mile from this bluff, 
dwelt Tomo Chici, the grand sachem of the Indian con- 
federacy of that region. Oglethorpe and the chief both de- 
sired friendly relations; and when the former invited the 
latter to his tent, Tomo Chici came, bearing in his hand a 
small buffalo skin, appropriately ornamented, and addressed 
Oglethorpe in eloquent and conciliatory terms. Friendly 
relations were established, and on the twelfth of February 
the little band of settlers came from Port Royal and landed 
at the site of the future city of Savannah. 

For almost a year the governor lived under a tent stretched 
upon pine boughs, while the streets of the town were laid 
out, and the people built their houses of timber, each twenty- 
four by sixteen feet in size. In May following, a treaty with 
the Indian chiefs of the country was held, and on the first 
day of June it was signed, by which the English obtained 
sovereignty over the lands of the Creek nation as far south 
as the St. John's, in Florida. Such was the beginning of 
one of the original thirteen states of our confederacy. 

Within eight years after the founding of Savannah, 
twenty-five hundred emigrants had been sent out to Georgia, 
at an expense of four hundred thousand dollars. Among 
these were one hundred and fifty Highlanders, well disci- 
plined in military tactics, who were of essential service to 
Oglethorpe. Very strict moral regulations were adopted ; 
lots of land, twenty-five acres each, were granted to men 
for military services, and every care was exercised to make 
the settlers comfortable. Yet discontent soon prevailed, for 
they saw the Carolinians growing rich by traffic in negroes; 
they also saw them prosper commercially by trade with the 



232 SAVANNAH 

West Indies. They complained of the Wesleyans as too 

rigid, and these pious Methodists left the colony and re- 
turned home. Still, prosperity did not smile upon the set- 
tlers, and a failure of the scheme was anticipated. 

Oglethorpe, who went to England in 1734. returned in 
1736, with three hundred emigrants. A storm was gather- 
ing upon the southern frontier of his domain. The Spaniards 
at St. Augustine regarded the rising state with jealousy, 
and as a war between England and Spain was anticipated, 
vigilance was necessary. Oglethorpe resolved to maintain 
the claim of Great Britain south to the banks of the St. 
John's and the Highlanders, settled at Darien, volunteered 
to aid him. With a few followers, he hastened in a scout- 
boat to St. Simon's Island, where he laid the foundations of 
Frederica, and upon the bluff near by he constructed a fort 
of t<;!>I>y. 1 the ruins of which may still be seen there. He 
also caused torts to be erected at Augusta, Darien, on Cum- 
berland Island, and near the mouth of the St. Man's and 
St. John's. Perceiving these hostile preparations, the Span- 
ish authorities at St. Augustine sent commissioners to con- 
fer with Oglethorpe. They demanded the evacuation of 
the whole of Georgia, and even of the region north of the 
Savannah to St. Helena Sound. This demand was accom- 
panied by a menace of war in the event of non-compliance. 
Thus matters stood for several months. 

In the winter of 1736-7 Oglethorpe again went to Eng- 
land, where he received the commission of brigadier-general, 
with a command extending over South Carolina as well 
as Georgia. There he remained a year and a half, when 
he returned to his colony with a regiment of six hundred 
men to act against the Spaniards. England declared war 
against Spain in the latter part of 1739, and Oglethorpe 

1 A mixture of lime, oyster shells and gravel, which, when dry, 
forms .1 bard, rooky mass. 



SAVANNAH 233 

immediately planned an expedition against St. Augustine. 
The St. Mary's was then considered (as it remains) the 
boundary between Georgia and Florida. Over that line 
Oglethorpe marched in May, 1740, with four hundred of 
his regiment, some Carolinians, and a large body of friendly 
Indians. He captured a Spanish fort within twenty-five miles 
of St. Augustine. A small fortress, within two miles of 
that place, was surrendered on his approach, but a summons 
to give up the town was answered by defiant words. The 
invaders maintained a siege for some time, when the arrival 
of re-enforcements for the garrison, and the prevalence of 
sickness in the camp, obliged them to withdraw and return 
to Savannah. 

The inhabitants of Georgia first began to feel the hand 
of British taxation when, in 1 767, Governor Wright com- 
municated his instructions from the King to require implicit 
obedience to the Mutiny Act. They were compelled to 
acquiesce, but it was with reluctance. They had not realized 
the practical iniquity of the Stamp Act; and when, in 1768, 
the Assembly at Savannah appointed Dr. Franklin an agent 
to attend to the interests of the colony in Great Britain, 
they had no formal special complaint to make, nor difficulties 
with government for him to adjust. They generally in- 
structed him to use efforts to have the acts of Parliament 
repealed, which were offensive to the colonies. To a cir- 
cular letter from the speaker of the Massachusetts Assembly, 
proposing a union of the Colonies, an answer of approval 
was returned. In 1770, the Legislature spoke out boldly 
against the oppressive acts of the mother country, by pub- 
lishing a Declaration of Rights, similar in sentiment to that 
of the " Stamp Act Congress " at New York. Governor 
Wright was displeased, and viewing the progress of revolu- 
tionary principles within his province with concern, he went 
to England to confer with ministers. He remained there 



234 SAVANNAH 

about a year and a half. During his absence, James Hab- 
ersham, president of the council, exercised executive func- 
tions. 

The Republicans of Georgia had become numerous in 

I773i ;UU * Committees of correspondence were early formed, 
and acted efficiently. A meeting of the friends of liberty w as 

called in Savannah in the autumn of that year, but Sir 
James Wright, supported by a train oi civil officers, pie- 
vented the proposed public expression of opinion. The 
wealthy feared loss of property by revolutionary movements, 
while the timid trembled at the thought of resistance to 
royal government. Selfishness and fear kept the people com- 
paratively quiet for a while. In the meantime, a pow- 
erful Tory party was organizing in South Carolina and in 
gia, and emissaries were sent to the governors of these 
provinces among the Indians on the frontiers, to prepare 
them to lift the hatchet and go out upon the war-path against 
the white people, if rebellion should ensue. Such was the 
condition of Georgia when called upon to appoint repro- 
ves in the Continental Congress, to be held at Phila- 
delphia in 1774. Half encircled by tierce savages, and 
pressed down by the heel of strongly supported power in 
their midst, the Republic ied stout hearts and unbend- 

ing resolution. These they possessed, ; and in the midst oi 
difficulties they were bold, and adopted measures of co- 
ition with the other colonies in resistance to tyranny. 
There are but few remains of Revolutionary localities 
about Savannah. The city has spread out over all the 
British works: and where their batteries, redoubts, nun- 
parts, and ditches were constructed, public squares are laid 
out and adorned with trees, or houses and stores cover the 
earth. Not so with the works constructed by the French 
engineers during the seige in the autumn of 1770. Al- 
the regulai forms are effaced, yet the mounds and 



SAVANNAH 235 

ditches may be traced many rods near the margin of the 
swamp southeast of the city. These L visited early on the 
morning of my arrival in Savannah. I procured a saddle 
horse and rode out to " Jasper's Spring," a place famous as 
the scene of a hold exploit, which has been the theme ot 
history and song. 1 It is near the Augusta road, two and 
a half miles westward of the city. The day was very 
warm. The gardens were garnished with flowers; the 
orange-trees were blooming; blossoms covered the peach 
trees, and insects were sporting in the sunbeams. 

1 Sergeant William Jasper while securing the Carolina flags 
upon the parapet of the Spring Hill redoubt at Savannah there 
sealed his patriotism with his life's blood. Jasper was one of tin- 
bravest of the brave. After his exploits at Fort Moultrie, his 
commander, General Moultrie, gave him a sort of roving commis- 
sion, certain that he would always be usefully employed. Jasper 
belonged to the second South Carolina regiment, and was privileged 
to select from his corps such men as he pleased to accompany him in 
his enterprises. Bravery and humanity were his chief characteristics, 
and while he was active in the cause of his country, he never 
injured an enemy unnecessarily. While out upon one of his ex- 
cursions, when the British had a camp at Ebenezer, all the sympa- 
thies of his heart were aroused by the distress of a Mrs. Jones, 
whose husband, an American by birth, was confined in irons for 
deserting the royal cause after taking a protection. She felt 
certain that he would be hanged, for, with others, he was taken 
to Savannah for that purpose the next morning. Jasper and his 
only companion (Sergeant Newton) resolved to rescue Jones and 
his fellow-prisoners. Concealing themselves in the thick bushes 
near the spring (at which they doubted not the guard of eight 
men would halt), they awaited their approach. As expected, the 
guard halted to drink. Only two of them remained with the 
prisoners, while the others, leaning their muskets against a tree, 
went to the spring. Jasper and his companion then leaped from 
their concealment, seized two of the guns, shot the two sentinels, 
and took possession of the remainder of the muskets. The guards, 
unarmed, were powerless, and surrendered. The irons were 
knocked off the wrists of the prisoners, muskets were placed in their 



236 SAVANNAH 

Jasper's Spring is just within the edge of a forest of oaks 
and gums, and is remarkable only on account of its his- 
torical associations. It is in the midst of a marshy spot 
partially covered with underwood, on the northern side of 
the road, and its area is marked by the circumference of a 
sunken barrel. Being the only fountain of pure water in 
the vicinity, it is resorted to daily by travellers upon the 
road. 

hands, and the custodians of Jones and his fellow-patriots were 
taken to the American camp at Purysburg the next morning, them- 
selves prisoners of war. Jones was restored to his wife, child, and 
country, and for that noble deed posterity blesses the name of 
Sergeant Jasper. That name is indelibly written on the page of 
history, and the people of Savannah have perpetuated it by bestow- 
ing it upon one of the beautiful squares of their city. 



HARPER'S FERRY 
JOHN G. ROSENGARTEN 

IT was a wet Monday in October, on my return from 
a journey, with a large party of friends and acquaint- 
ances, as far north as Chicago and as far south as St. 
Louis and the Iron Mountains. We were gradually near- 
ing home, and the fun and jollity grew apace as we got 
closer to the end of our holiday and to the beginning of 
our everyday work. 

Our day's ride was intended to be from Cumberland (on 
the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad) to Baltimore. The 
murky drizzle made our comfortable car all the more cosy, 
and the picturesque glories of that part of Western Vir- 
ginia, through which we had come very leisurely and en- 
joyably, were heightened by the contrast of the dull cloud 
that hung over the valley of the Potomac. 

At Martinsburg the train was stopped for an unusually 
long time ; and in spite of close questioning, we were obliged 
to satisfy our curiosity with a confused story of an out- 
break and a strike among the workmen at the armoury, with 
a consequent detention of trains, at Harper's Ferry. The 
train pushed on slowly, and at last came to a dead halt at a 
station called The Old Furnace. 

There a squad of half a dozen lazy Virginia farmers — we 
should call them a picket just now, in our day of military 
experiences — told us half a dozen stories about the troubles 
ahead, and finally the people in charge of our train deter- 
mined to send it back to wait for further news from below. 
A young engineer who was employed on the railroad was 

237 



238 HARPER'S FERRY 

directed to go along the track to examine it, and see what, 
if any, damage had been done. As I had brushed up an 
acquaintance with him, I volunteered to accompany him, 
and then was joined by a young Englishman, a Guardsman 
on his travels, one of the Welsh Wynns, just returning 
from a shooting tour over the prairies. We started off in 
the rain and mud, and kept together till we came to a 
bridle-path crossing the railroad and climbing up the hills. 
Here we met a country doctor, who offered to guide us to 
Bolivar, whence we could come down to the Ferry, and as 
the trains would be detained there for several hours, there 
would be time enough to see all the armoury workshops and 
wonders. So off we started up the muddy hillside, leaving 
our engineer to his task on the railroad ; for what pedestrian 
would not prefer the worst dirt road to the best railroad 
for an hour's walking? 

My guide — Dr. Marmion was the name he gave in ex- 
change for mine — said that the row at the Ferry was 
nothing but a riotous demonstration by the workmen. He 
came from quite a distance, and, hearing these vague re- 
ports, had turned off to visit his patients in this quarter, 
so that he might learn the real facts; and as it was then 
only a little past nine, he had time to do his morning's 
work in Bolivar. So there we parted, he agreeing to join 
me again at the Ferry; and he did so later in the day. 

Turning to the left on the main pike, I found little knots 
of lounging villagers gathered in the rain and mud, spit- 
ting, swearing, and discussing the news from the Ferry. 
Few of them had been there, and none of them agreed in 
their account of the troubles; so I plodded on over the hill 
and down the sharp slope that led to the Ferry. Just as 
I began the descent, a person rode up on horseback, gun in 
hand, and as we came in sight of the armoury, he told me 
the true story — that a band of men were gathered together 



HARPER'S FERRY 239 

to set the slaves free, and that, after starting the outbreak 
on the night before, they had taken refuge down below. 
He pointed with his gun, and we were standing side by 
side, when a sudden flash and a sharp report and a bullet 
stopped his story and his life. 

The few people above us looked down from behind the 
shelter of houses and fences — from below not a soul was 
visible in the streets and alleys of Harper's Ferry, and only 
a few persons could be seen moving about the building in 
the armoury inclosure. In a minute, some of the towns- 
people, holding out a white handkerchief, came down to 
the fallen man, and, quite undisturbed, carried him up the 
hill and to the nearest house — all with hardly a question 
or a word of explanation. Shocked by what was then rare 
enough to be appalling — sudden and violent death by fire- 
arms in the hands of concealed men, — I started off again, 
meaning to go down to the Ferry, with some vague notion 
of being a peacemaker, and at least of satisfying my curi- 
osity as to the meaning of all these mysteries: for while I 
saw that fatal rifle-shot meant destruction, I had no con- 
ception of a plot. 

Just as I had reached the point where I had joined the 
poor man who had fallen — it was a Mr. Turner, formerly 
a captain in the army, and a person deservedly held in high 
esteem by all his friends and neighbours, — a knot of two 
or three armed men stopped me, and after a short parley 
directed me to someone in authority, who would hear my 
story. The guard who escorted me to the great man was 
garrulous and kind enough to tell me more in detail the 
story, now familiar to all of us, of the capture of Mr. 
Lewis Washington and other persons of note in the Sun- 
day night raid of a body of unknown men. The dread 
of something yet to come, with which the people were 
manifestly possessed, was such as only those can know who 



240 HARPER'S FERRY 

have lived in a Slave State; and while there was plenty of 
talk of the steadiness of the slaves near the Ferry, it was 
plain that that was the magazine that was momentarily in 
danger of going off and carrying them all along with it. 

The officers of the neighbouring militia had gathered 
together in the main tavern of the place, without waiting 
for their men, but not unmindful of the impressive effect 
of full uniform, and half a dozen kinds of military toggery 
were displayed on the half dozen persons convened in a 
6ort of drum-head court-martial. 

I was not the only prisoner, and had an opportunity to 
hear the recitals of my fellows in luck. First and fore- 
most of all was a huge, swaggering, black-bearded, gold- 
chain and scarlet-velvet-waistcoated, piratical-looking fel- 
low, who announced himself as a Border Ruffian, of Vir- 
ginia stock, and now visiting his relations near the Ferry; 
but he said that he had fought with the Southern Rights 
party in the Kansas war, and that when he heard of the 
" raid," as he familiarly called the then unfamiliar feat of 
the Sunday night just past, he knew who was at the top 
and bottom of it, and he described in a truthful sort of way 
the man whose name and features were alike unknown to 
all his listeners, — " Ossawatomie Brown," " Old John 
Brown." Garnishing the story of their earlier contests 
with plentiful oaths, he gave us a lively picture of their 
personal hand-to-hand fights in the West, and said that he 
had come to help fight his old friend and enemy, and to 
fight him fair, just as they did in " M'souri." He wanted 
ten or a dozen men to arm themselves to the teeth, and 
he'd lead 'em straight on. His indignation at his arrest 
and at the evident incredulity of his hearers and judges 
was not a whit less hearty and genuine than his curses on 
their cowardice in postponing any attack or risk of fighting 
until the arrival of militia, or soldiers, or help of some 



HARPER'S FERRY 241 

kind, in strength to overpower the little band in the armoury, 
to make resistance useless, and an attack, if that was nec- 
essary, safe enough to secure some valiant man to lead 
it on. 

My story was soon told. I was a traveller; my train 
had been stopped ; I had started off on foot, meaning to 
walk over the hill to the Ferry, and expecting there to 
meet the train to go on to Baltimore. The interruptions 
were plentiful, and talk blatant. I showed a ticket, a 
memorandum-book giving the dates and distances of my 
recent journey, and a novel (I think it was one of Bal- 
zac's) in French, and on it was written in pencil my name 
and address. That was the key-note of plenty of suspicion. 
How could they believe any man from a Northern city 
innocent of a knowledge of the plot now bursting about their 
ears? Would not my travelling companions from the same 
latitude be ready to help free the slaves? And if I was 
set at liberty, would it not be only too easy to communicate 
between the little host already beleaguered in the armoury 
engine house and the mythical great host that was gathered 
in the North and ready to pour itself over the South? Of 
course all this, the staple of their everyday discussions, was 
strange enough to my ears; and I listened in a sort of silent 
wonderment that men could talk such balderdash. Any 
serious project of a great Northern movement on behalf of 
Southern slaves was then as far from credible and as strange 
to my ears as it was possible to be. It seemed hardly 
worth while to answer their suggestions; I therefore spoke 
of neighbours of theirs who were friends of mine, and of 
other prominent persons in this and other parts of Vir- 
ginia who were acquaintances, and for a little time I hoped 
to be allowed to go free; but after more loud talk and a 
squabble that marked by its growing violence the growing 
drunkenness of the whole party, court and guard and spec- 



242 HARPER'S FERRY 

tators all, I was ordered along with the other prisoners to 
be held in custody for the present. We were marched off, 
first to one house and then to another, looking for a con- 
venient prison, and finally found one in a shop. Here — it 
was a country store — we sat and smoked and drank and 
chatted with our guard and with their friends inside and 
out. Now and then a volley was fired in the streets of the 
village below us, and we would all go to a line fence where 
we could see its effects: generally it was only riotous noise, 
but occasionally it was directed against the engine house or 
on someone moving through the armoury yard. 

As the militia in and out of uniform, and the men from 
far and near, armed in all sorts of ways, began to come into 
the village in squads, their strength seemed to give them 
increased confidence, and especially in the perfectly safe 
place where I sat with half a dozen others under a heavy 
guard. Now and then an ugly-looking fowling-piece or an 
awkwardly handled pistol was threateningly pointed at us, 
with a half-laughing and half-drunken threat of keeping 
us safe. Toward afternoon we were ordered for the night 
to Charlestown, and to the jail there that has grown so 
famous by its hospitality to our successors. 

Early morning was very welcome, for it brought the 
court-martial up to Charlestown, and I was soon ready for 
a hearing. Fortunately, after a good deal of angry discus- 
sion and some threats of short shrift, a message came up 
from the Ferry from Governor Wise; and as I boldly 
claimed acquaintance with him, they granted me leave to 
send down a note to him, asking for his confirmation of 
my statements. 

While this was doing, I was paroled and served my Kan- 
sas colleague by advice to hold his tongue; he did so, and 
was soon released ; and my messenger returned with such 
advices, in the shape of a pretty sharp reprimand to the 



HARPER'S FERRY 243 

busy court-martial for their interference with the liberty 
of the citizen, as speedily got me my freedom. I used it to 
buy such articles of clothing as could be had in Charles- 
town, and my prison clothes were gladly thrown aside. 
Some of my fellow-travellers reached the place in time to 
find me snugly ensconced in the tavern, waiting for an 
ancient carriage; with them we drove back to the Ferry 
in solemn state. The same deserted houses and the same 
skulking out of sight by the inhabitants showed the fear 
that outlasted even the arrival of heavy militia reinforce- 
ments. 

We stopped at Mr. Lewis Washington's, and, with- 
out let or hindrance, walked through the pretty grounds 
and the bright rooms and the neat negro huts, all alike life- 
less, and yet showing at every turn the suddenness and the 
recentness of the fright that had carried everybody off. 
Our ride through Bolivar was cheered by a vigorous greet- 
ing from my captor of the day before, — the village shoe- 
maker, a brawny fellow, — who declared that he knew I 
was all right, that he had taken care of me, that he would 
not have me hanged or shot, and " wouldn't I give him 
sum't to have a drink all round, and if ever I came again, 
please to stop and see him " ; and so I did, when I came 
back with my regiment in war-times; but then no shoe- 
maker was to be found. 

I paid my respects to Governor Wise, and thanked him 
for my release; was introduced to Colonel Lee (now the 
Rebel general), and to the officers of the little squad of 
marines who had carried the stronghold of the " invaders," 
as the Governor persistently called them. 

In company with " Porte Crayon," Mr. Strothers, a na- 
tive of that part of Virginia, and well known by his 
sketches of Southern life, I went to the engine-house, and 
there saw the marks of the desperate bravery of John Brown 



2 4 4 HARPER'S FERRY 

and his men. I saw, too, John Brown himself. Wounded, 
bleeding, haggard, and defeated, and expecting death with 
more or less of agony as it was more or less near, John 
Brown was the finest specimen of a man that I ever saw. 
His great, gaunt form, his noble head and face, his iron- 
grey and patriarchal beard, with the patient endurance of 
his own suffering, and his painful anxiety for the fate of 
his sons and the welfare of his men, his reticence when 
jeered at, his readiness to turn away wrath with a kind 
answer, his whole appearance and manner, what he looked, 
what he said — all impressed me with the deepest sense of 
reverence. If his being likened to anything in history could 
have made the scene more solemn, I should say that he was 
likest to the pictured or the ideal representation of a 
Roundhead Puritan dying for his faith, and silently glory- 
ing in the sacrifice not only of life, but of all that made 
life dearest to him. His wounded men showed in their 
patient endurance the influence of his example; while the 
vulgar herd of lookers-on, fair representatives of the cow- 
ardly militia-men who had waited for the little force of 
regulars to achieve the capture of the engine-house and its 
garrison, were ready to prove their further cowardice by 
maltreating the prisoners. The marines, who alone had sac- 
rificed life in the attack, were sturdily bent on guarding 
them from any harsh handling. I turned away sadly from 
the old man's side, sought and got the information he 
wanted concerning " his people," as he called them, and 
was rewarded with his thanks in a few simple words, and 
in a voice that was as gentle as a woman's. 

The Governor, as soon as he was told of the condition of 
the prisoners, had them cared for, and, in all his bitter- 
ness at their doings, never spoke of them in terms other 
than honourable to himself and to them. He persistently 
praised John Brown for his bravery and his endurance; and 



HARPER'S FERRY 245 

he was just as firm in declaring him the victim of shrewd 
and designing men, whose schemes he would yet fathom. 

The day was a busy one; for little squads of regulars 
were sent out on the Maryland Heights to search for the 
stores accumulated there; and each foraging party was 
followed by a trail of stragglers from all the volunteers on 
the ground, who valiantly kept on to the Maryland side of 
the bridge that crossed the Potomac, and then, their cour- 
age oozing out of their fingers and toes both, stopped there 
and waited for the return of the regulars. On the instant 
of their arrival, each time fetching a great hay-waggon full 
of captured goods, tents, picks, spades, pikes, the tag-rag and 
bobtail party at once set to work to help themselves to the 
nearest articles, and were soon seen making off homeward 
with their contraband of war on their backs. The plunder, 
however, was not confined to the captured property. A 
strong force of militia soon invaded the armoury, and every 
man helped himself to a rifle and a brace of pistols, and 
then, tiring of the load, began to chaffer and bargain for 
their sale. Governor Wise was called on to interfere and 
preserve the Government property; he came into the little 
inclosure of the works, and began an eloquent address, but 
seeing its uselessness, broke off and put his Richmond Greys 
on guard; and then the distribution of public property was 
made through the regular channels — that is, the men in- 
side brought guns and pistols to the men on guard, and 
they passed them out to their friends beyond, so that the 
trade went on almost as free as ever. 

Night soon came, and it was made hideous by the drunken 
noise and turmoil of the crowd in the village. Matters were 
made worse, too, by the Governor's order to impress all 
the horses; and the decent, sober men trudged home rather 
out of humour with their patriotic sacrifice; while the tipsy 
and pot-valiant militia fought and squabbled with each 



246 HARPER'S FERRY 

other, and only ceased that sport to pursue and hunt down 
some fugitive negroes, and one or two half-maddened 
drunken fellows who in their frenzy proclaimed themselves 
John Brown's men. Tired out at last, the Governor took 
refuge in the Wager House — for an hour or two, he had 
stood on the porch haranguing an impatient crowd as " Sons 
of Virginia " ! 

Within doors the scene was stranger still. Huddled 
together in the worst inn's worst room, the Governor and 
his staff at a table with tallow candles guttering in the 
darkness, the Richmond Greys lying around the floor in 
picturesque and (then) novel pursuit of soft planks, a mot- 
ley audience was gathered together to hear the papers cap- 
tured at John Brown's house — the Kennedy farm on Mary- 
land Heights — read out with the Governor's running com- 
ments. The purpose of all this was plain enough. It was 
meant to serve as proof of a knowledge and instigation of 
the raid by prominent persons and party leaders in the 
North. The most innocent notes and letters, common- 
place newspaper paragraphs and printed cuttings, were dis- 
torted and twisted by the reading and by the talking into 
clear instructions and positive plots. However, the main 
impression was of the picturesqueness of the soldiers rest- 
ing on their knapsacks, and their arms stacked in the dark 
corner — of the Governor and his satellites, some of them 
in brilliant militia array, seated around the lighted table, — 
and of the grotesque eloquence with which either the Gov- 
ernor or some of his prominent people would now and then 
burst out into an oratorical tirade, all thrown away on his 
sleepy auditors, and lost to the world for want of some 
clever shorthand writer. 

In the morning I was glad to hear that my belated train 
had spent the last forty-eight hours at Martinsburg, and 
I did not a bit regret that my two days had been so full 



HARPER'S FERRY 247 

of adventure and incident. Waiting for its coming, I 
walked once more through the village, with one of the 
watchmen of the armoury, who had been captured by John 
Brown and spent the night with him in the engine-house, 
and heard in all its freshness the story now so well known. 



MICHILIMACINAC 
HENRY B. DAWSON 

THE dispute with Great Britain had resulted in a 
declaration of war by the Congress of the United 
States; yet, notwithstanding an appeal to arms had been 
made by the infant republic, there appears to have been 
but little preparation made to carry it on. Not the least 
of the many subjects which appear to have been almost 
wholly neglected by the executive departments of the Gov- 
ernment, was the notification of the several military posts, 
on the frontiers, of the declaration — a neglect which was, 
subsequently, productive of great mischief to the country. 

At the period in question, the United States occupied the 
Island of Michilimacinac (since called Mackinac) with a 
small garrison of regular troops, not more for the protec- 
tion of traders, than for the purpose of holding a check over 
the Indians of the northwestern part of the country. This 
island is situated in the straits which lead from Lake Mich- 
igan to Lake Huron; is of a circular form, about seven 
miles in circumference, and from three to four miles from 
the main. It is a rock of limestone, covered with a rough 
but fertile soil, on which is borne a heavy growth of tim- 
ber. The fort occupied a high bank on the southeastern 
side of the island, overlooking and commanding a fine har- 
bour; and was, itself, commanded by the high ground in 
its rear, on which had been erected two block-houses, each 
of which was defended by two long nine-pounders, two 
howitzers, and a brass three-pounder; and a company of 
fifty-seven men, officers included, commanded by Lieutenant 

248 



MACHILIMACINAC 249 

Porter Hanks, of the United States Artillery, formed the 
garrison. About fifty miles northeast from this post, Gen- 
eral Brock, in the spring of 181 2, had erected a small work, 
called Fort St. Joseph, and had garrisoned it with a de- 
tachment of the Tenth Royal Veteran Battalion, forty-five 
in number, under Captain Charles Roberts. 

Intelligence of the declaration of war having been con- 
veyed, by express, from New York to Queenstown and 
Montreal, at the expense of some British merchants resid- 
ing at the former city, the enemy had been apprised of 
the measure at a much earlier date than that on which the 
American officers had received the information, and the 
latter, therefore, laboured under great disadvantages. One 
of the most notable instances of this official neglect, which 
resulted in the most serious consequences to the country, 
was that of the neglect to notify the commanders of the 
northwestern posts, especially that of Michilimacinac, whose 
first information of the existence of war was received from 
the enemy, with a demand for his surrender. 

As before related, the enemy received early advice of the 
declaration of war from the British merchants residing in 
New York; and one of the first cares of Sir Isaac Brock 
was to notify Captain Roberts, at St. Joseph's, with orders 
to make an immediate attack on Michilimacinac, if prac- 
ticable; or, in the event of an attack on his post, by the 
Americans, to defend it to the last extremity. At a subse- 
quent date the order was renewed, with directions to sum- 
mon the neighbouring Indians to his assistance, and to ask 
for the same purpose, the co-operation of such of the em- 
ployees of the British fur companies, who might happen to 
be near him; and, still later, the Captain was left to his 
own discretion to adopt either offensive or defensive meas- 
ures, as circumstances might warrant. With a degree of 
promptitude which reflects honour on his professional char- 



250 MACHILIMACINAC 

acter, Captain Roberts decided to act offensively; and he 
took immediate measures to insure a successful termination 
of his enterprise. He was far beyond the limits within 
which he could have commanded the assistance of other 
portions of the Royal forces; and he fell back on the lim- 
ited resources of his secluded position with remarkably good 
judgment and success. Calling to his quarters Mr. Pothier, 
an agent of the Southwest Company, who was then at St. 
Joseph's, he laid before that gentleman his proposed plan 
of operations, and solicited his assistance. Air. Pothier, 
struck with the importance of the projected enterprise, and 
the feasibility of the plan of operations, immediately opened 
the stores of the company, and placed everything they con- 
tained, which might contribute to the success of the expe- 
dition, at the command of Captain Roberts; while, at the 
same time, he offered his own services, as a volunteer, with 
those of one hundred and eighty Canadian voyageurs — 
employees of the company — one-half of whom he armed 
with muskets or fowling-pieces. Captain Roberts also in- 
vited the assistance of the neighbouring Indians — both 
American and British — and about four hundred and 
twenty-five of the savages responded to his call. 

On the day after the receipt of the orders last referred 
to (July 16), at ten o'clock in the morning. Captain Rob- 
erts embarked, with his entire force — regular, volunteer, 
and savage — and two iron six-pounders, and under the 
convoy of the Northwest Company's brig Caledonia, which 
was laden with stores and provisions, he approached the 
Island of Michilimacinac. At three o'clock in the morning 
of the seventeenth of July, the flotilla reached the place of 
rendezvous; and one of the two guns was immediately 
taken up the high ground in the rear of the fort, and 
placed in battery in a position which completely com- 
manded the garrison. 



MACHILIMACINAC 251 

In the meantime, Lieutenant Hanks and his little com- 
mand remained comparatively ignorant of their impending 
danger. It is true, an Indian interpreter had told the Lieu- 
tenant, on the sixteenth, that the Indians at St. Joseph's 
intended to make an immediate attack on the post; and 
from the sudden coolness which some of the chiefs, in the 
vicinity of his post, had displayed, he appears to have been 
inclined to believe the interpreter's information. He im- 
mediately called a council, and invited " the American gen- 
tlemen at that time on the island " to participate in the 
deliberations; the result of which was the appointment of 
Captain Daurman, as a scout, to proceed to St. Joseph's to 
watch the motions of the Indians. The Captain embarked 
about sunset, and had proceeded only a short distance before 
he met the enemy's flotilla, by whom he was captured, and 
returned to the island. At daybreak he was landed, with 
instructions to remove all the inhabitants of the little vil- 
lage to the west side of the island — where the enemy's 
flotilla then laid — in order that their persons and prop- 
erty might be protected ; at the same time forbidding him 
from conveying any information to the garrison, and 
threatening with extermination all those who might seek 
refuge with the garrison and offer any resistance. The in- 
habitants of the village appear to have obeyed the order 
without any delay; and the intelligence of their exodus, 
which was carried to the fort by Doctor Day, who was 
passing that way, was the first intimation which Lieu- 
tenant Hanks had received of the presence of an enemy of 
any kind, nor did he then suspect that the intruders were 
subjects of his Britannic majesty, lawfully prosecuting a 
warfare which his own government had declared, nearly a 
month before that time. He lost no time, however, in 
ordering the block-houses, on the high ground in his 
rear, to be occupied and supplied with ammunition and 



252 MACHILIMACINAC 

stores; and every gun in the main works was prepared for 
action. 

By this time, however, the enemy had gained the heights, 
and placed his gun in battery, as before referred to, while 
the Indians, in great numbers, showed themselves in the 
margin of the woods, near the fort. At about eleven 
o'clock a flag was sent, requiring the surrender of the fort 
and its garrison to his Britannic majesty's forces — the ear- 
liest notice which the garrison had received of the char- 
acter of their enemy. After consulting his officers and the 
American gentlemen who were present; and taking into 
consideration the strength and disposition of the enemy, it 
was resolved to yield to the demand; and the fort and the 
island were, accordingly, surrendered to the arms of Great 
Britain. 

Of the great importance of this conquest, both parties 
were immediately fully sensible. Not only were the stores 
which were taken quite valuable, but seven hundred pack- 
ages of furs were among the trophies of the victory. But 
not alone" from the value of the spoils does the interest 
which has attached to this affair arise. General Hull has 
shown its effects in the most vivid colours when he said, 
" After the surrender of JMichilimacinac, almost ever}' tribe 
and nation of Indians, excepting a part of the Miamis and 
Delawares, north from beyond Lake Superior, west from 
beyond the Mississippi, south from the Ohio and Wabash, 
and east from even' part of Upper Canada, and from all 
the intermediate country, joined in open hostility, under the 
British standard, against the army I commanded, contrary 
to the most solemn assurance of a large portion of them to 
remain neutral." The same views were entertained by the 
enemy; and the standard British authorities on the history 
of those times, have left on record their testimony to the 
same effect. 



NARRAGANSETT 

WASHINGTON IRVING 

THE nature of the contest that ensued was such as too 
often distinguishes the warfare between civilized 
men and savages. On the part of the whites, it was con- 
ducted with superior skill and success; but with a waste- 
fulness of the blood and a disregard of the natural rights 
of their antagonists; on the part of the Indians, it was 
waged with the desperation of men fearless of death, and 
who had nothing to expect from peace, but humiliation, 
dependence, and decay. 

The project of a wide and simultaneous revolt, if such 
had really been formed, was worthy of a capacious mind, 
and, had it not been prematurely discovered, might have 
been overwhelming in its consequences. The war that act- 
ually broke out, was but a war of detail, a mere succession 
of casual exploits and unconnected enterprises. Still, it sets 
forth the military genius and daring prowess of Philip; and 
wherever, in the prejudiced and passionate narrations that 
have been given of it, we can arrive at simple facts, we 
find him displaying a vigorous mind, a fertility of expe- 
dients, a contempt of suffering and hardship, and an un- 
conquerable resolution, that command our sympathy and 
applause. 

Driven from his paternal domains at Mount Hope, he 
threw himself into the depths of those vast and trackless 
forests that skirted the settlements, and were almost im- 
pervious to anything but a wild beast or an Indian. Here 
he gathered together his forces, like the storm accumulating 

253 



254 NARRAGANSETT 

its stores of mischief in the bosom of the thunder-cloud, and 
would suddenly emerge at a time and place least expected, 
carrying havoc and dismay into the villages. 

There were, now and then, indications of these impend- 
ing ravages, that filled the minds of the colonists with awe 
and apprehension. The report of a distant gun would per- 
haps be heard from the solitary woodland, where there 
was known to be no white man; the cattle which had 
been wandering in the woods would sometimes return home 
wounded; or an Indian or two would be seen lurking about 
the skirts of the forests, and suddenly disappearing; as the 
lightning will sometimes be seen playing silently about the 
edge of the cloud that is brewing up the tempest. 

Though sometimes pursued, and even surrounded, by the 
settlers, yet Philip as often escaped, almost miraculously, 
from their toils, and, plunging into the wilderness, would 
be lost to all search or inquiry, until he again emerged at 
some far-distant quarter, laying the country desolate. 
Among his strongholds were the great swamps or morasses 
which extend in some parts of New England, composed of 
loose bogs of deep black mud, perplexed with thickets, bram- 
bles, rank weeds, the shattered and mouldering trunks of 
fallen trees, overshadowed by lugubrious hemlocks. The 
uncertain footing and the tangled mazes of these shaggy 
wilds rendered them almost impracticable to the white 
man, though the Indian could thrid their labyrinths with 
the agility of a deer. 

Into one of these, the great swamp of Pocasset Neck, was 
Philip once driven with a band of his followers. The Eng- 
lish did not dare to pursue him, fearing to venture into these 
dark and frightful recesses, where they might perish in fens 
and miry pits, or be shot down by lurking foes. They 
therefore invested the entrance to the Neck, and began to 
build a fort, with the thought of starving out the foe; but 



NARRAGANSETT 255 

Philip and his warriors wafted themselves on a raft over an 
arm of the sea, in the dead of night, leaving the women and 
children behind, and escaped away to the westward, kin- 
dling the flames of war among the tribes of Massachusetts 
and the Nipmuck country, and threatening the colony of 
Connecticut. 

In this way, Philip became a theme of universal appre- 
hension. The mystery in which he was enveloped exag- 
gerated his real terrors. He was an evil that walked in 
darkness; whose coming none could foresee, and against 
which none knew when to be on the alert. The whole 
country abounded with rumours and alarms. Philip seemed 
almost possessed of ubiquity; for, in whatever part of the 
widely-extended frontier an irruption from the forest took 
place, Philip was said to be its leader. 

Many superstitious notions also were circulated concern- 
ing him. He was said to deal in necromancy, and to be 
attended by an old Indian witch or prophetess, whom he 
consulted, and who assisted him by her charms and incanta- 
tions. This, indeed, was frequently the case with Indian 
chiefs; either through their own credulity, or to act upon 
that of their followers; and the influence of the prophet 
and the dreamer over Indian superstition has been fully 
evidenced in recent instances of savage warfare. 

At the time that Philip effected his escape from Pocas- 
set, his fortunes were in a desperate condition. His forces 
had been thinned by repeated fights, and he had lost almost 
the whole of his resources. In this time of adversity he 
found a faithful friend in Canonchet, chief sachem of all 
the Narragansetts. He was the son and heir of Mian- 
tonimo, the great sachem, who, after an honourable acquit- 
tal of the charge of conspiracy, had been privately put to 
death at the perfidious instigations of the settlers. " He 
was the heir," says the old chronicler, " of all his father's 



256 NARRAGANSETT 

pride and insolence, as well as of his malice toward the Eng- 
lish " — he certainly was the heir of his insults and injuries, 
and the legitimate avenger of his murder. 

Though he had forborne to take an active part in this 
hopeless war, yet he received Philip and his broken forces 
with open arms; and gave them the most generous counte- 
nance and support. This at once drew upon him the hos- 
tility of the English; and it was determined to strike a 
signal blow that should involve both the sachems in one 
common ruin. A great force was, therefore, gathered to- 
gether from Massachusetts, Plymouth, and Connecticut, 
and was sent into the Narraganset country in the depth of 
winter, when the swamps, being frozen and leafless, could 
be traversed with comparative facility, and would no longer 
afford dark and impenetrable fastnesses to the Indians. 

Apprehensive of attack, Canonchet had conveyed the 
greater part of his stores, together with the old, the infirm, 
the women and children of his tribe, to a strong fortress; 
where he and Philip had likewise drawn up the flower of 
their forces. This fortress, deemed by the Indians impreg- 
nable, was situated upon a rising mound or kind of island, 
of five or six acres, in the midst of a swamp; it was con- 
structed with a degree of judgment and skill vastly supe- 
rior to what is usually displayed in Indian fortification, 
and indicative of the martial genius of these two chieftains. 

Guided by a renegade Indian, the English penetrated, 
through December snows, to this stronghold, and came upon 
the garrison by surprise. The fight was fierce and tumul- 
tuous. The assailants were repulsed in their first attack, 
and several of their bravest officers were shot down in the 
act of storming the fortress, sword in hand. The assault 
was renewed with greater success. A lodgment was ef- 
fected. The Indians were driven from one post to another. 
They disputed their ground inch by inch, fighting with the 



NARRAGANSETT 257 

fury of despair. Most of their veterans were cut to pieces; 
and after a long and bloody battle, Philip and Canonchet, 
with a handful of surviving warriors, retreated from the 
fort, and took refuge in the thickets of the surrounding 
forest. 

The victors set fire to the wigwams and the fort; the 
whole was soon in a blaze ; many of the old men, the women 
and the children perished in the flames. This last outrage 
overcame even the stoicism of the savage. The neighbour- 
ing woods resounded with the yells of rage and despair 
uttered by the fugitive warriors, as they beheld the destruc- 
tion of their dwellings, and heard the agonizing cries of their 
wives and offspring. 

" The burning of the wigwams," says a contemporary 
writer, " the shrieks and cries of the women and children, 
and the yelling of the warriors, exhibited a most horrible 
and affecting scene, so that it greatly moved some of the 
soldiers." The same writer cautiously adds, " they were 
in much doubt then, and afterward seriously inquired, 
whether burning their enemies alive could be consistent 
with humanity, and the benevolent principles of the 
Gospel." 

The defeat at the Narranganset fortress and the death of 
Canonchet, were fatal blows to the fortunes of King Philip. 
He made an ineffectual attempt to raise a head of war by 
stirring up the Mohawks to take arms; but though pos- 
sessed of the native talents of a statesman, his arts were 
counteracted by the superior arts of his enlightened enemies, 
and the terror of their warlike skill began to subdue the 
resolution of the neighbouring tribes. The unfortunate 
chieftain saw himself daily stripped of power, and the ranks 
rapidly thinning around him. 

Some were suborned by the whites; others fell victims to 
hunger and fatigue, and to the frequent attacks by which 



258 NARRAGANSETT 

they were harassed. His stores were all captured; his 
chosen friends were swept away from before his eyes; his 
uncle was shot down by his side; his sister was carried into 
captivity; and in one of his narrow escapes he was com- 
pelled to leave his beloved wife and only son to the mercy 
of the enemy. " His ruin," says the historian, " being thus 
gradually carried on, his misery was not prevented, but 
augmented thereby; being himself made acquainted with 
the sense and experimental feeling of the captivity of his 
children, loss of friends, slaughter of his subjects, bereave- 
ment of all family relations, and being stripped of all out- 
ward comforts, before his own life should be taken away." 

However Philip had borne up against the complicated 
miseries and misfortunes that surrounded him, the treachery 
of his followers seemed to worry his heart and reduce him 
to despondency. It is said that " he never rejoiced after- 
ward, nor had success in any of his designs." The spring 
of hope was broken — the ardour of enterprise was extin- 
guished — he looked around, and all was danger and dark- 
ness; there was no eye to pity, nor any arm that could 
bring deliverance. With a scanty band of followers, who 
still remained true to his desperate fortunes, the unhappy 
Philip wandered back to Mount Hope, the ancient dwell- 
ing of his fathers. 

Here he lurked about, like a spectre, among scenes of 
former power and prosperity, now bereft of home, of fam- 
ily, and friend. There needs no better picture of his desti- 
tute and piteous situation, than that furnished by the homely 
pen of the chronicler, who is unwarily enlisting the feelings 
of the reader in favour of the hapless warrior whom he 
reviles. " Philip," he says, " like a savage wild beast, hav- 
ing been hunted by the English forces through the woods, 
above a hundred miles backward and forward, at last was 
driven to his own den upon Mount Hope, where he retired, 



NARRAGANSETT 259 

with a few of his best friends, into a swamp, which proved 
but a prison to keep him fast till the messengers of death 
came by divine permission to execute vengeance upon him." 

Even in this last refuge of desperation and despair, a sul- 
len grandeur gathers round his memory. We picture him 
to ourselves seated among his careworn followers, brooding 
in silence over his blasted fortunes, and acquiring a savage 
sublimity from the wildness and dreariness of his lurking- 
place. Defeated, but not dismayed — crushed to the earth, 
but not humiliated — he seemed to grow more haughty be- 
neath disaster, and to experience a fierce satisfaction in 
draining the last dregs of bitterness. 

Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune, but 
great minds rise above it. The very idea of submission 
awakened the fury of Philip, and he smote to death one of 
his followers, who proposed an expedient of peace. The 
brother of the victim made his escape, and in revenge be- 
trayed the retreat of his chieftain. A body of white men 
and Indians were immediately despatched to the swamp 
where Philip lay crouched, glaring with fury and despair. 
Before he was aware of their approach, they had begun to 
surround him. In a little while he saw five of his trustiest 
followers laid dead at his feet; all resistance was vain; he 
rushed forth from his covert, and made a headlong attempt 
to escape, but was shot through the heart by a renegade 
Indian of his own nation. 

Such is the scanty story of the brave but unfortunate 
King Philip; persecuted while living, slandered and dis- 
honoured when dead. If, however, we consider even the 
prejudiced anecdotes furnished us by his enemies, we may 
perceive in them traces of amiable and lofty character suf- 
ficient to awaken sympathy for his fate, and respect for his 
memory. We find that, amidst all the harassing cares 
and ferocious passions of constant warfare, he was alive to 



260 NARRAGANSETT 

the softer feelings of connubial love and paternal tender- 
ness, and to the generous sentiment of friendship. The 
captivity of his " beloved wife and only son " is mentioned 
with exultation as causing his poignant misery; the death 
of any near friend is triumphantly recorded as a new blow 
on his sensibilities; but the treachery and desertion of many 
of his followers, in whose affections he had confided, is said 
to have desolated his heart, and to have bereaved him of all 
further comfort. 

He was a patriot attached to his native soil — a prince 
true to his subjects, and indignant of their wrongs — a sol- 
dier daring in battle, firm in adversity, patient of fatigue, 
of hunger, of every variety of bodily suffering, and ready 
to perish in the cause he had espoused. Proud of heart, 
and with an untamable love of natural liberty, he preferred 
to enjoy it among the beasts of the forests, or in the dis- 
mal and famished recesses of swamps and morasses, rather 
than bow his haughty spirit to submission, and live depend- 
ent and despised in the ease and luxury of the settlements. 
With heroic qualities and bold achievements that would 
have graced a civilized warrior, and have rendered him the 
theme of the poet and the historian, he lived a wanderer 
and a fugitive in his native land, and went down — like a 
lonely bark foundering amid darkness and tempest — with- 
out a pitying eye to weep his fall, or a friendly hand to 
record his struggle. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 
SAMUEL RAWSON GARDINER 

/~\N December 19, 1606, the little company which was 
^-^ destined to succeed where so many had failed, sailed 
from the Thames in three small vessels. They were in all 
a hundred and five. The vessels were commanded by a 
Captain Newport. It was arranged that the names of the 
colonial council should be kept secret until the arrival of 
the expedition in America. This precaution had probably 
been taken to prevent any collision between Newport and 
the colonial authorities. It was, however, attended with 
unforeseen results. The chief persons who had engaged in 
the undertaking were jealous of the abilities of Smith, and 
absurd rumours were spread among them that he intended 
to make himself King of Virginia. They, therefore, re- 
solved upon intercepting his supposed design by placing 
him in confinement; and they conducted across the Atlantic 
as a prisoner the man to whom the whole conduct of the 
enterprise ought to have been confided. 

After a tedious voyage, the expedition arrived at the 
mouth of the Chesapeake. They gave to the headlands 
between which they sailed the names of Cape Henry and 
Cape Charles, in honour of the two English princes. As 
soon as they had landed, they opened their instructions, and 
found that seven of their number had been appointed to 
form the council, and that both Smith and Gosnold were 
included in the number. After some hesitation, they se- 
lected a site upon a stream to which they gave the name of 
the James River, upon which they proceeded to build the 

261 



262 THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 

town which is known as Jamestown to this day. The first 
act of the council was to nominate Wingfield, one of the 
earlier promoters of the expedition, to the presidency, and 
to expel Smith from their body. It was not till some weeks 
had passed that they were persuaded to allow him to take 
his seat. 

In June Newport returned to England with the vessels. 
As soon as he had left Virginia the troubles of the colonists 
began. They had arrived too late in the season to allow 
them to sow the seed which they had brought with them 
with any hope of obtaining a crop. The food which was 
left behind for their support was bad in quality, and the 
hot weather brought disease with it. Nearly fifty of their 
number were gentlemen who had never been accustomed 
to manual labour. Half of the little company were swept 
away before the beginning of September. Among those 
who perished was Gosnold, whose energetic disposition 
might, perhaps, if he had survived, done good service to the 
colony. To make matters worse, the president was inef- 
ficient and selfish, and cared little about the welfare of his 
comrades, if he only had food enough for himself. The 
council deposed him; but his successor, Radcliffe, was 
equally incompetent, and it was only by the unexpected 
kindness of the natives that the colonists were enabled to 
maintain their existence. As the winter approached, their 
stock was increased by large numbers of wild fowl which 
came within their reach. In spite, however, of this change 
in their circumstances, it was only at Smith's earnest en- 
treaty that they were prevented from abandoning the col- 
ony and returning to England. 

During the winter, Smith employed himself in explor- 
ing the country. In one of his expeditions he was taken 
prisoner by the Indians. Any other man would have been 
instantly massacred. With great presence of mind, he took 



THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 263 

a compass out of his pocket, and began talking to them 
about its wonders. Upon this, the chief forbade them to 
do him any harm, and ordered him to be carried to their 
village. 

While he was there he still more astonished his captors 
by sending a party of them with a letter to Jamestown. 
They were unable to comprehend how his wishes could be 
conveyed by means of a piece of paper. At last he was 
conducted before Powhatan, the superior chief over all the 
tribes of that part of the country. After a long consulta- 
tion, it was determined to put him to death. He was 
dragged forward, and his head was laid upon a large stone, 
upon which the Indians were preparing to beat out his 
brains with their clubs. Even then his good fortune did 
not desert him. The chief's daughter, Pocahontas, a young 
girl of ten or twelve years of age, rushed forward, and, 
taking him in her arms, laid her head upon his, to shield 
it from the clubs. The chief gave way before the entreaties 
of his daughter, and allowed him full liberty to return to 
Jamestown. 

On his arrival there, he found all things in confusion. 
The president had again formed the intention of abandon- 
ing the colony, and was only deterred once more by the 
energetic exertions of Smith. The colonists were also in- 
debted to him for the liberal supplies of provisions which 
were from time to time brought to them by Pocahontas. 

He had not been long at liberty, when Newport arrived 
with a fresh supply of provisions. He also brought with 
him about a hundred and twenty men, the greater part of 
whom were bent upon digging for gold. Smith applied him- 
self to the more profitable undertaking of carrying his 
explorations over the whole of the surrounding country. 
The gold-diggers did not add anything to the stock of the 
community; and it was only by the arrival of another ship 



264 THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 

that the colonists were enabled during the summer of 
1608 to avoid absolute starvation. Some little corn had, 
however, been sown in the spring, and it was hoped that, 
with the help of what they could obtain from the natives, 
there would be sufficient provision for the winter. 

Shortly after Newport had again left the colony, Smith 
returned from one of his exploring expeditions. He found 
the whole colony dissatisfied with the conduct of the inca- 
pable president, who, with the exception of Smith, was the 
only member of the original council still remaining in Vir- 
ginia. A third member had, however, been sent out from 
England. This man, whose name was Scrivener, had at- 
tached himself warmly to Smith, and, to the general satis- 
faction of the settlers, the two friends deposed Radcliffe, 
and appointed Smith to fill his place. 

Smith had not long been president when Newport again 
arrived. The members of the company in England were 
anxious to see a return for the capital which they had ex- 
pended. They pressed Smith to send them gold, and threat- 
ened to leave the colony to starve, if their wishes were not 
complied with. The only conditions on which he was to 
be excused were the discovery of a passage into the Pacific, 
or of the lost colony which had been founded by Raleigh. 
They sent him seventy more men, of whom, as usual, the 
greater number were gentlemen. They expected him to 
send them home, in return, pitch, tar, soap-ashes, and glass. 
To assist him in this they put on board eight Poles and 
Dutchmen, who were skilled in such manufactures. 

He at once wrote home to the treasurer of the company, 
Sir Thomas Smith, explaining to him the absurdity of these 
demands. The colonists, he told him, must be able to feed 
themselves before they could establish manufactures. If 
any more men were sent out, " but thirty carpenters, hus- 
bandmen, gardners, fishermen, blacksmiths, masons and 



THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 265 

diggers up of trees " and " roots," would be better " than 
a thousand of such " as had lately arrived. 

Under Smith's rule the settlement passed safely through 
another winter. The Indians were compelled to respect 
the rising colony. The greater part of the gentlemen were 
induced to work heartily, and those who refused were told 
plainly that if they would not do the work they would be 
left to starve. It appeared as if, at last, the worst diffi- 
culties had been overcome. 

The summer of 1609 was drawing to a close, when 
news arrived in Virginia that a fresh charter had been 
granted, by which considerable changes were authorized in 
the government of the colony. The working of the orig- 
inal arrangements had been, in many respects, unsatisfac- 
tory. The council at home, which had been enlarged in 
1607, had found but little to do, as all practical business 
connected with the support of the colony was in the hands 
of the company. The company itself had proved but ill- 
fitted to devise the best measures for a quick return for 
the money which they had laid out, and had been too 
eager to press the colonists to engage in trade before they 
had brought under cultivation a sufficient quantity of land 
for their own support. 

Undoubtedly the best thing which the new council could 
have done would have been to have placed Smith at the 
head of the settlement. But, being ignorant of his true 
value, they took the next best step in their power. The 
government of merchants and captains had proved only 
another name for organized disorder. They, therefore, 
determined to try the experiment of sending out persons 
whose rank had made them accustomed to command, and 
who, if they were under the disadvantage of being new to 
colonial life, might be supposed to be able to obtain respect 
from the factions by which the colony was distracted. It 



266 THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 

was also plain that the settlement must be regarded, at 
least for the present, as a garrison in a hostile country, 
and that the new government must be empowered to exer- 
cise military discipline. The selections were undoubtedly 
good. Lord de la Warr, an able and conscientious man, 
was to preside, under the name of General; Sir Thomas 
Gates, one of the oldest promoters of the undertaking, was 
to act as his Lieutenant; Sir George Somers was to com- 
mand the vessels of the company as Admiral; Sir Thomas 
Dale, an old soldier from the Low Country wars, was to 
keep up discipline as Marshal; while Sir Ferdinando Wain- 
man was invested with the rather unnecessary title of Gen- 
eral of the Horse. Lord de la Warr was to be preceded by 
Gates, Somers, and Newport, who were jointly to admin- 
ister the government till the appearance of the General 
himself. 

The whole scheme was well contrived, and, if it had 
been carried out according to the intentions of the council, 
all would have gone well. In May, nine ships sailed with 
five hundred fresh men to recruit the colony, and with 
large stores of provisions. Unfortunately, the ship which 
contained the three commissioners was wrecked on the Ber- 
mudas, and the remaining vessels, with the exception of 
one which perished at sea, arrived in the Chesapeake with 
the information that Smith's authority was at an end, but 
without bringing any new officers to fill his place. To 
make matters worse, the men who arrived were chiefly a 
loose and disorderly mob, who had been chosen without 
any special regard for the requirements of an emigrant's 
life, and with them were several of Smith's old opponents, 
previously returned to England. 

Smith, seeing that no lawful authority had come to re- 
place his own, determined to maintain himself in his post. 
The newcomers raised unlooked-for difficulties. They not 



THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 267 

only showed great disinclination to submit to his orders, 
but they set at naught all the ordinary rules of prudence in 
their intercourse with the natives. The Indians came to 
Smith with complaints that his men were stealing their 
corn and robbing their gardens. He was doing his best 
to introduce order again among these miserable men, when 
an accident deprived the colony of his services. Some gun- 
powder in a boat, in which he was, accidentally took fire, 
and the wounds which he received made it impossible for 
him to fulfil the active duties of his office. He accordingly 
determined to return to England, leaving the unruly crowd 
of settlers to discover, by a bitter experience, the value of 
his energy and prudence. They were not long in learn- 
ing the extent of their capacity for self-government. They 
utterly refused to submit to Percy, who had been elected 
by the council as Smith's successor. As soon as the natives 
heard that Smith was gone, they attacked the settlement 
and met with but little resistance. The settlers themselves 
wasted the provisions which should have served for their 
subsistence during the winter. There was no recognized 
authority, and every man followed his own inclination. 
When Smith sailed for England, the colony consisted of 
four hundred and ninety men. Within six months, a mis- 
erable remnant of sixty persons was supporting itself upon 
roots and berries. 

In this extremity, Gates arrived, having contrived to 
escape in a pinnace from the Bermudas. On May 23, 1610, 
he landed at Jamestown. He had expected to find a 
flourishing colony, where he could obtain support for the 
hundred and fifty shipwrecked settlers who accompanied 
him. He found famine staring him in the face. The corn 
which had been sown would not be ready for harvest for 
months, and the Indians refused to bargain with their 
oppressors. When he had landed all his little store, he 



2 68 THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 

found that there would only be enough to support life for 
sixteen days. It was, therefore, determined, by common 
consent, to forsake the country, as the only means to avoid 
starvation, and to make for Newfoundland, where the fu- 
gitives hoped to obtain a passage to England in the vessels 
which were engaged in fishing. 

On June 7, the remnants of the once prosperous colony 
quitted the spot which had been for three years the centre 
of their hopes, and dropped down the river. Before, how- 
ever, they had got out of the Chesapeake, they were aston- 
ished by the sight of a boat coming up to meet them. The 
boat proved to belong to Lord de la Warr's squadron, 
which had arrived from England in time to save the set- 
tlement from ruin. 

The arrival of Lord de la Warr was the turning point 
in the early history of Virginia. He brought provisions 
upon which the settlers could subsist for a year, and by 
his authority he was able to curb the violence of the fac- 
tions which had been with difficulty kept down even by the 
strong hand of Smith. Peace was restored with the Indians, 
and the colonists willingly obeyed the Governor's direc- 
tions. 

He had not been long in Virginia before ill-health com- 
pelled him to return. After a short interval, he was suc- 
ceeded by Sir Thomas Dale. Dale introduced a code of 
martial law. This code was unjustifiably severe, but even 
that was better than the anarchy which threatened to break 
out again on Lord de la Warr's departure. A still more 
advantageous change was brought about under his govern- 
ment. Hitherto, the land had been cultivated for the good 
of the whole colony, and it had been found difficult to make 
men work heartily who had no individual interest in their 
labours. Dale assigned three acres of land to each settler. 
The immediate results of this innovation were manifest. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF JAMESTOWN 269 

The improvement was still more decided when Gates, who 
had been sent back to England, returned as Governor in 
August, 161 1, with considerable supplies, of which the 
most valuable part consisted of large numbers of cattle. 
From that time the difficulties which had impeded the for- 
mation of the settlement were heard of no more. 



FORT DU QUESNE 

E. SARGENT 

FORT DU QUESNE was situated on the east side of 
the Monongahela, on the tongue of land formed by 
the junction of that stream with the Alleghany. Though 
full of faults in its original construction, and small, it was 
built with immense labour, and it had " a great deal of 
very strong works collected into very little room." By the 
doubtful evidences which we possess, its shape would seem 
to have been a parallelogram, its four sides facing very 
nearly to the points of the compass, but a bastion at each 
corner gave it a polygonal appearance. Its longest sides 
were fifty yards; its shorter, forty. 

These were made of very large squared logs, to the 
height of twelve feet, and compactly filled in with earth to 
the depth of eight; thus leaving about four feet of ram- 
parts to shelter the plateau. The sides of the fort near- 
est the rivers being comparatively protected by nature, were 
not furnished with bastions; but a strong stockade, twelve 
feet high, and made of logs a foot in diameter driven pile- 
wise into the ground, extended from bastion to bastion and 
completely enclosed the area. This stockade was ingen- 
iously wattled cross-wise with poles, after the fashion of 
basket-work, and loopholes, slanting downwards, were cut 
through to enable the men to fire. At the distance of 
some four rods from these walls, as they may be called, a 
shallow ditch was dug completely environing them and pro- 
tected by a second stockade, seven feet high, built in a 
manner similar to the first, and solidly embanked with 
earth. 

270 



FORT DU QUESNE 271 

Two gates opened into the fort; the western from the 
waterside, and the eastern, about ten feet wide, from the 
land. Immediately between the eastern postions was sunken 
a deep well, whose diameter was the width of the gate- 
way, and over which a drawbridge was placed that at night, 
or in time of danger, was drawn up with chain and levers; 
and these actually formed the gate. Both portals were 
strongly framed of squared logs; but the eastern gate 
opened on hinges, and had a wicket cut in it for ordinary 
use. Within the fort, and hard by the eastern gate, were 
placed the magazine and kitchen; the former, twenty feet 
wide by forty long, and but five feet high, was built of 
heavy hewed timber, deeply sunk into the ground to almost 
its full altitude, and its roof plastered with a coating of 
potter's clay nearly four feet in thickness. By this means, it 
was comparatively secure from any missile save bombs or 
hot-shot thrown from the brow of the adjacent hills. It 
is to these precautions that we are indebted at this day for 
the solitary vestige of Old Fort Du Quesne that remains 
to us. Some workmen, in the summer of 1854 — J us t about 
a century after Stobo wrote — being employed in making 
excavations for the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, 
brought to light this building, which alone, of all its com- 
rades, had, from its peculiar formation, escaped as well the 
destroying hand of Time as the torch of its baffled creator, 
when, in 1758, he forever abandoned his beloved fortress 
and fled before the approach of Forbes. Leaves, dirt, and 
rubbish must soon have accumulated above its neglected 
roof. The storms of winter came, and the freshets of 
the spring; and ere long not a human being had reason to 
believe that beneath his feet stood, intact almost as on the 
day it was built, the Old French Magazine. 

Beside this, however, there were other buildings within 
the walls; heavy and substantial log-houses, such as the 



272 FORT DU QUESNE 

wants of the garrison might require. Two were store- 
houses or magazines; two others were barracks; a seventh 
was the commandant's residence; and lesser erections served 
for a guard-house and a prison. The backs of these were 
at but a yard's distance from the walls, which they aided 
greatly to strengthen; all the intervening space being filled 
in with earth. Their roofs, covered with boards sawed by 
hand upon the spot, were level at the eaves with the ram- 
parts; nor were there any pickets or sharpened palisades 
crowning the walls. Had Braddock reached this place, it 
was St. Clair's proposition to erect a battery on the brow 
of the opposite hill, which perfectly commanded the fort, 
and thence, with hot-shot, to set these buildings on fire, 
and so subdue the post. All their artillery consisted of eight 
cannon; one-half of them three- and the remainer four- 
pounders; five of which were mounted on the northwestern 
bastion defending the powder-magazine. When Stobo 
wrote, M. de Contrecceur and a guard of five officers and 
forty men were all who lodged in the fort; bark cabins 
were erected around it for the rest of the garrison. Every 
preparation was made for their permanent comfort; and 
already kitchen-gardens upon the Alleghany and mills upon 
the Monongahela, and a vast cornfield, extending for a 
quarter of a mile up either stream, furnished promise of 
future subsistence. The woods all around had been cut 
down, and hardly a stump remained within musket-shot to 
shelter the approach of a foe. 

Although the Canadian militia returning to their homes 
left but a small garrison of regulars to hold the fort 
towards the end of the summer of 1754, yet, if any reli- 
ance may be placed upon the reports which reached the 
English provinces, there was still a plenty of aid within 
call; no less than 2200 fresh troops being sent thitherward 
from Quebec during that season; and on the 25th of Sep- 



FORT DU QUESNE 273 

tember 300 Caghnawagas, or French Indians, and a convoy 
of provisions from Quebec arrived. Five days before, when 
Lieutenant Lyon with a flag of truce from Virginia and a 
fruitless proposition to exchange La Force (the officer cap- 
tured at Tumonville's defeat) for Captain Stobo, visited 
Du Quesne, he found but one hundred men in the fort. 
But despite their scanty numbers, they were pursuing a 
most dangerous policy towards English interests by assid- 
uously tempting the Indians of the Six Nations in the vicin- 
ity to forswear their ancient alliances; and sending their 
Caghnawagas among the Shawanoes and other western 
tribes to bring them into the interests of Canada. A num- 
ber of savages had frequented the post ever since the cap- 
ture of Fort Necessity, and among these numerous and 
valuable presents were distributed. Through the medium 
of the Delaware, or perhaps more directly from Quebec and 
France, through the intercession of the spy Hennessey, they 
were in November advised of the expected reinforcements 
from England ; and not comprehending a six months' delay 
in the enterprise, the French had hastened at once to rein- 
force Fort Du Quesne with eight additional cannon, and 
a plenty of stores. The garrison was also increased to 
1 100 men; and nearly 400 Indians, Adirondacks, Caghna- 
wagas, and Ottawas, were sent thither from the confines 
of New France. 

Having settled upon his course, on the 8th of July, 
Braddock, following the Valley of Long Run, marched 
southwestwardly eight miles towards the Monongahela, and 
pitched his camp for the night upon an inviting declivity 
between that stream and another rivulet called Crooked 
Run, some two miles from the river. He was now within 
two easy marches of the Ohio, to gain which he looked for 
no other opposition than what he might encounter in the 
morrow's fordings; and so far as we can discover, there 



274 FORT DU QUESNE 

were in his ranks but two individuals at all diffident of 
success. 

What precautionary steps his education and capacity 
could suggest were here taken by Braddock. Before three 
o'clock on the morning of the 9th, Gage was sent forth 
with a chosen band to secure both crossings of the river, 
and to hold the further shore of the second ford till the 
rest of the army should come up. At four, St. Clair, with 
a working-party, followed to make the roads. At six A. m. 
the General set out, and advantageously posted about 
400 men upon the adjacent heights, and made, with all the 
waggons and baggage, the first crossing of the Monongahela. 
Marching thence in order of battle towards the second 
ford, he received intelligence that Gage had occupied the 
shore according to orders, and that the route was clear. 
The only enemy he had seen was a score of savages, who 
fled without awaiting his approach. By eleven o'clock, 
the army reached the second ford; but it was not until 
after one that the declivities of the banks were made ready 
for the artillery and waggons, when the whole array, by a 
little before two o'clock, was safely passed over. Not 
doubting that from some point on the stream the enemy's 
scouts were observing his operations, Braddock was re- 
solved to strongly impress them with the numbers - and 
condition of his forces; and accordingly the troops were 
ordered to appear as for a dress-parade. In after life, 
Washington was accustomed to observe that he had never 
seen elsewhere so beautiful a sight as was exhibited during 
this passage of the Monongahela. Every man was attired 
in his best uniform; the burnished arms shone bright as 
silver in the glistening rays of the noonday sun, as, with 
colours waving proudly above their heads, and amid in- 
spiring bursts of martial music, the steady files, with dis- 
ciplined precision, and glittering in scarlet and gold, ad- 



FORT DU QUESNE 275 

vanced to their position. While the rear was yet on the 
other side, and the van was falling into its ordained course, 
the bulk of the army was drawn up in battle array on the 
western shore, hard by the spot where one Frazier, a 
German blacksmith in the interest of the English, had 
lately had his home. Two or three hundred yards above 
the spot where it now stood was the mouth of Turtle 
Creek (the Tulpewi Sipu of the Lenape), which, flowing 
in a southwestwardly course to the Monongahela that here 
has a northwestwardly direction, embraces, in an obtuse 
angle of about 125 , the very spot where the brunt of the 
battle was to be borne. The scene is familiar to tourists, 
being, as the crow flies, but eight miles from Pittsburg, 
and scarce twelve by the course of the river. For three- 
quarters of a mile below the entrance of the creek, the 
Monongahela was unusually shallow, forming a gentle 
rapid or ripple, and easily fordable at almost any point. 
Its common level is from three to four hundred feet below 
that of the surrounding country; and along its upper banks, 
at the second crossing, stretches a fertile bottom of a rich, 
pebbled mould, about a fourth of a mile in width, and 
twenty feet above low-water mark. At this time it was 
covered by a fair, open walnut-wood, uncumbered with 
bush or undergrowth. 

On the evening of the 8th of July, the ground had been 
carefully reconnoitred and the proper place for the action 
selected. The intention was to dispute as long as possible 
the passage of the second ford, and then to fall back upon 
the ravines. But long ere they reached the scene, the swell 
of military music and the crash of falling trees, apprised them 
that the foe had already crossed the river, and that his 
pioneers were advanced into the woodlands. Quickening 
their pace into a run, they managed to reach the broken 
ground just as the van of the English came in sight. 



276 FORT DU QUESNE 

The French (some of whom, according to Garneau, were 
mounted), held the centre of the semi-circular disposition 
so instantly assumed; and a tremendous fire was at once 
opened on the English. 

The officers sought to collect their men together and 
lead them on in platoons. Nothing could avail. On every 
hand the officers, distinguished by their horses and their 
uniforms, were the constant mark of hostile rifles; and it 
was soon as impossible to find men to give orders as it was 
to have them obeyed. In a narrow road, twelve feet wide, 
shut upon either side and overpent by the primeval forest, 
were crowded together the panic-stricken wretches, hastily 
loading and reloading, and blindly discharging their guns 
in the air, as though they suspected their mysterious mur- 
derers were sheltered in the boughs above their heads; while 
all around, removed from sight, but making day hideous 
with their war-whoops and savage cries, lay ensconced a host 
insatiate for blood. Foaming with rage and indignation, 
Braddock flew from rank to rank, with his own hands en- 
deavouring to force his men into position. Four horses 
were shot under him, but mounting a fifth, he still strained 
every nerve to retrieve the ebbing fortunes of the day. 

At last, when every aide but Washington was struck 
down; when the lives of the vast majority of the officers 
had been sacrificed with a reckless intrepidity, a sublime 
self-devotion that surpasses the power of language to ex- 
press; when scarce a third part of the whole army remained 
unscathed, and these incapable of aught save remaining to 
die or till the word to retire was given ; at last Braddock 
abandoned all hope of victory; and, with a mien undaunted 
as in his proudest hour, ordered the drums to sound a re- 
treat. The instant their faces were turned, the poor reg- 
ulars lost every trace of the sustaining power of custom; 



FORT DU QUESNE 277 

and the retreat became a headlong flight. " Despite of all 
the efforts of the officers to the contrary, they ran," says 
Washington, " as sheep pursued by dogs, and it was im- 
possible to rally them." 

Beneath a large tree standing between the heads of the 
northernmost ravines, and while in the act of giving an 
order, Braddock received a mortal wound; the ball passing 
through his right arm into the lungs. Falling from his 
horse, he lay helpless on the ground, surrounded by the 
dead, abandoned by the living. 

So terminated the bloody battle of the Monongahela; a 
scene of carnage which has been truly described as unexam- 
pled in the annals of modern warfare. Of the 1460 souls, 
officers and privates, who went into the combat, 456 were 
slain outright, and 421 were wounded; making a total of 
877 men. Of 89 commissioned officers, 63 were killed 
or wounded; not a solitary field-officer escaping unhurt. 

Whether we regard the cause, the conduct, or the con- 
sequences of this battle, the reflections it gives rise to are 
alike valuable and impressive. It brought together prac- 
tically for the first time in our history the disciplined reg- 
ular of Europe and the riflemen of America; and it taught 
the lesson to the latter that in his own forests he was the 
superior man. It was the beginning of a contest in whose 
revolving years the colonies became a school of arms, and 
a martial spirit of the people was fostered and trained till 
they had attained that confidence which naught but custom 
can afford. Had Braddock been successful, the great prov- 
ince of Pennsylvania, and probably those of New Jersey, 
Maryland, and New York, freed from danger, would have 
continued in their original ignorance and aversion of mili- 
tary science. His failure left their frontiers open to the 
enemy, and the spirit of self-preservation soon compelled 



278 FORT DU QUESNE 

them to welcome the weapons from which they had once re- 
coiled with loathing. It was there and then that Morgan 
and Mercer, Gates and Washington, first stood side by 
side in marshalled array; and in that day's dark torrent of 
blood was tempered the steel which was to sever the col- 
onies from the parent-stem. 



ST. JOHN'S RIVER 
GEORGE R. FAIRBANKS 

' I ''HE account given by Laudonniere, himself, the leader 
■*■ of the Huguenots, by whom Fort Caroline was con- 
structed, is as follows: After speaking of his arrival at 
the mouth of the river, which had been named the River 
May by Ribault, who had entered it on the first day of 
May, 1562, and had therefore given it that name, he says, 
" Departing from thence, I had not sailed three leagues up 
the river, still being followed by the Indians, crying still, 
' amy, amy,' that is to say, friend, but I discovered an 
hill of meane height, neare which I went on land, harde 
by the fTeldes that were sowed with mil, at one corner 
whereof there was an house, built for their lodgings which 
keep and garde the mil. . . . 

". . . Now was I determined to searche out the qual- 
ities of the hill. Therefore I went right to the toppe there- 
of; where we found nothing else but cedars, palms, and 
bay trees of so sovereign odor that Balme smelleth not more 
sweetly. The trees were environed around about with 
vines bearing grapes, in such quantities that the number 
would suffice to make the place habitable. Besides the fer- 
tilise of the soyle for vines, one may see mesquine wreathed 
about the trees in great quantities. Touching the pleasure 
of the place, the sea may be seen plain enough from it; and 
more than six great leagues off, towards the River Belle, a 
man may behold the meadows, divided asunder into isles 
and islets, enterlacing one another. Briefly, the place is so 
pleasant, that those which are melancholicke, would be in- 
forced to change their humour. . . . 

279 



2 8o ST. JOHN'S RIVER 

"Our fort was built in- form of a triangle; the side 
towards the west, which was toward the land, was inclosed 
with a little trench and raised with turf made in the form 
of a battlement, nine feet high ; the other side, which was 
towards the river, was inclosed with a palisade of planks 
of timber, after the manner that Gabions are made; on the 
south line, there was a kind of bastion, within which I 
caused an house for the munition to be made. It was all 
builded with fagots and sand, saving about two or three 
foote high, with turfes whereof the battlements were made. 

" In the middest, I caused a great court to be made of 
eighteen paces long, and the same in breadth. In the 
middest whereof, on the one side, drawing towards the 
south, I builded a corps de garde and an house on the 
other side towards the north. . . . One of the sides 
that inclosed my court, which I made very faire and large, 
reached into the grange of my munitions; and on the other 
side, towards the river, was mine own lodgings, round 
which were galleries all covered. The principal doore of 
my lodging was in the middest of the great place, and the 
other was towards the river. A good distance from the 
fort I built an oven." 

Jacob Le Moyne, or Jacques Morgues, as he is some- 
times called, accompanied the expedition, and his Brevis 
Narratio contains two plates, representing the commence- 
ment of the construction of Fort Caroline, and its appear- 
ance when completed. The latter represents a much more 
finished fortification than could possibly have been con- 
structed, but may be taken as a correct outline, I presume, 
of its general appearance. 

Barcia, in his account of its capture, describes neither 
its shape nor appearance, but mentions the parapet nine 
feet high, and the munition-house and store-house. 

From the account of Laudonniere and Le Moyne, it was 



ST. JOHN'S RIVER 281 

situated near the river, on the slope or nearly at the foot 
of a hill. Barcia speaks of its being behind a hill, and of 
descending towards it. The clerical-carpenter, Challeux, 
speaks of being able, after his escape, to look down from the 
hill he was on, into the court of the fort itself, and seeing 
the massacre of the French. As he was flying from the 
port towards the sea, and along the river, and as the Span- 
iards came from a southeast direction, the fort must have 
been on the westerly side of a hill, near the river. 

The distance is spoken of as less than three leagues by 
Laudonniere. Hawkins and Ribault say the fort was not 
visible from the mouth of the river. It is also incidentally 
spoken of in Barcia as being two leagues from the bar. Le 
Challeux, in the narrative of his escape, speaks of the dis- 
tance as being about two leagues. In the account given 
of the expedition of De Gourgues, it is said to be, in gen- 
eral terms, about one or two leagues above the forts after- 
wards constructed on each side of the mouth of the river; 
and it is also mentioned in De Gourgues, that the fort was 
at the foot of a hill, near the water, and could be over- 
looked from the hill. The distance from the mouth of the 
river, and the nature of the ground where the fort was 
built, are thus made sufficiently definite to enable us to 
seek a location which shall fulfil both these conditions. It 
is hardly necessary to remark, that there can be no ques- 
tion but that the fort was located on the south or easterly 
side of the river, as the Spaniards marched by land from 
St. Augustine, in a northwesterly direction to Fort Caro- 
line. 

The River St. John's is one of the largest rivers, in point 
of width, to be found in America, and is more like an arm 
of the sea than a river; from its mouth for a distance of 
fifteen miles, it is spread over extensive marshes, and there 
are few points where the channel touches the banks of the 



282 ST. JOHN'S RIVER 

river. At its mouth it is comparatively narrow, but imme- 
diately extends itself over widespread marshes; and the 
first headland or shore which is washed by the channel is 
a place known as St. John's Bluff. Here the river runs 
closely along the shore, making a bold, deep channel close 
to the bank. The land rises abruptly on one side, into a 
hill of moderate height, covered with a dense growth of 
pine, cedar, etc. This hill gently slopes to the banks of 
the river, and runs off to the southwest, where, at the dis- 
tance of a quarter of a mile, a creek discharges itself into 
the river, at a place called the Shipyard from time imme- 
morial. 

I am not aware that any remains of Fort Caroline, or 
any old remains of a fortress, have ever been discovered 
here; but it must be recollected that this fort was con- 
structed of sand and pine trees, and that three hundred 
years have passed away, with their storms and tempests, 
their rains and destructive influences — a period sufficient to 
have destroyed a work of much more durable character than 
sandy entrenchments and green pine stakes and timbers. 
Moreover, it is highly probable, judging from present ap- 
pearances, that the constant abrasion of the banks still go- 
ing on has long since worn away the narrow spot where 
stood Fort Caroline. It is also to be remarked, that as there 
is no other hill, or highland, or place where a fort could 
have been built between St. John's Bluff and the mouth 
of the river, so it is also the fact, that there is no point 
on the south side of the river where the channel touches 
high land, for a distance by water of eight or ten miles 
above St. John's Bluff. 

The evidence in favour of the location of Fort Caro- 
line at St. John's Bluff is, I think, conclusive and irresist- 
ible, and accords in all points with the descriptions given 
as to distance, topography, and points of view. 



ST. JOHN'S RIVER 283 

It is within the memory of persons now living, that a 
considerable orange grove and somewhat extensive build- 
ings, which existed at this place, then called St. Vicente, 
have been washed into the river, leaving at this day no 
vestiges of their existence. It has been occupied as a 
Spanish fort within fifty years; yet so rapid has been the 
work of time and the elements, that no remains of such 
occupation are now to be seen. 

The narratives all speak of the distance from the mouth 
of the river as about two leagues; and in speaking of so 
short a distance the probability of exactness is much greater 
than when dealing with longer distances. 

As to the spot itself, it presents all the natural features 
mentioned by Laudonniere; and it requires but a small spice 
of enthusiasm and romance that it be recognized as a 
" goodlie and pleasante spotte," by those who might like 
the abundance of the wild grapes and the view of the dis- 
tant salt meadows, with their " isles and islets, so pleas-i 
ante that those which are melancholicke would be inforced 
to change their humour." 

It is but proper, however, to say, that at a plantation 
known as Newcastle there is a high range of ground, and 
upon this high ground the appearance of an old earthwork 
of quadrangular form; but this point is distant some six 
leagues from the mouth of the river, is flanked by a deep 
bay or marsh to the southeast, and the work is on the top 
of the hill and not at its foot, is quarangular, and is a 
considerable distance from the water. These earthworks, 
I am satisfied, are Spanish or English remains of a much 
later period. 



w 



MONTEREY 

LADY MARY HARDY 

r E reach Monterey in the cool of the evening. A queer 
tumble-down Spanish town lying close along the 
sea-shore. One or two fishermen are trailing their nets on 
the face of the water, and some fishing-smacks, with their 
brown, patched sails, are anchored in the bay, and are rocked 
so gently by the waves they seem to be coquetting with their 
own shadows. Not much more than a century ago a host 
of Spanish vessels sailed into this now lonely and deserted 
harbour, their colours flying, their decks crowded with sol- 
diers, sailors, priests, and nuns. Here they landed in search 
of a good site whereon to found a mission for their priestly 
labours. They stationed themselves on an elevated point 
about two miles from the sea; there the labour of love began. 
They buit a presidio for the soldiers to protect the fathers 
from the native Indians. Every man who had hands to 
work devoted himself to the cause, and laboured till the 
church and mission buildings were completed. All that 
part of the country was taken possession of in the name of 
the King of Spain, and the work of conversion began. The 
ceremony was performed with a blare of trumpets, beating 
of drums, and salvos of artillery, calling out an army of 
echoes from the surrounding hills and mountains. The poor 
Indians were at first dazed with the display of tawdry mag- 
nificence and frightened at the thundering sounds which 
shook the air and seemed to make the solid earth tremble 
beneath their feet; but by degrees they approached, and 
then learned that this wonderful expedition was organized 

284 



MONTEREY 285 

expressly for their benefit. Peace in this world and glory- 
in the next was freely promised them. The gates of Para- 
dise were opened before them; they had nothing to do but 
to walk in and take possession. Scores were converted every 
day; they bowed down before the altar. The acolytes swung 
the incense, the fathers preached and chanted in an unknown 
tongue, the nuns, from behind their grated gallery, lifted 
their songs of adoration and praise, and the poor heathen 
souls were caught up in the great mystery and won to God. 

From Mexico and Spain settlers soon came flocking into 
the beautiful valley, establishing themselves upon the sea- 
shore, building dwellings, grazing cattle, and growing fruits 
and flowers, increasing and multiplying themselves and their 
houses till the city grew and, for a time, flourished in peace 
and plenty, carrying on a thriving trade not only with Spain 
and Mexico, but with the inhabitants along the coast. The 
descendants of the first settlers, to a great extent, still oc- 
cupy the now half-deserted, dilapidated town. The mission 
church, presidio, and other buildings appertaining thereto 
are on an elevated spot some two miles distant from the 
town overlooking the lovely and extensive Carmel Valley. 

Only a century ago the church was filled with priests and 
converts, the presidio with soldiers, their clanking arms and 
breastplates glittering in the sun; vessels rode at anchor in 
the harbour, and crowds of Dutch and Spanish traders, with 
their bales of merchandise, swarmed upon the silver-sanded 
beach below. Now all is gone, like painted shadows fading 
from the sunshine. 

The church, crowning the hilltop and dominating the 
landscape for miles around, is one of the most beautiful, 
picturesque, and perfect ruins upon the coast. Its exterior 
is complete, even to the rusty bell which still hangs in the 
belfry tower, and creaks with a ghostly clang when the wind 
blows through; and we are surprised to find so much of 



286 MONTEREY 

the decorative masonry still intact. Dilapidated saints and 
cherubs, with broken trumpets and mouldering wings, still 
hold their places, while all around is slowly but surely crum- 
bling to decay; and, though in places you may see the day- 
light streaming through the roof, you can still ramble 
through the nun's gallery and look down upon the altar, 
where the broken font still clings to the wall. 

On the occasion of our visit, a small side chapel or vestry 
was decorated with ivy, evergreens, and paper flowers, and 
tin sconces, with the remains of guttering candles, were left 
upon the walls. It had evidently been used very lately — by 
the villagers, perhaps, for some festive gathering. The ex- 
tensive range of adobe buildings which surround the church 
and were occupied by the converts and day-labourers, are 
still in a state of semi-preservation; the roofs are gone, but 
the walls are still standing. The whole of these sacred pos- 
sessions were enclosed, and entered then as now by a mas- 
sive gateway at the foot of the southern slope. 

The town of Monterey is only interesting from its asso- 
ciation with the past. It is dirty, it is dusty, it is utterly 
void of all modern improvements. Streets! there are none 
to speak of, except, perhaps, a row of slovenly shops which 
have been run up by some demented genius the last few 
years. The old adobe houses — and they are all made of 
that species of sun-dried clay — straggle about in the most 
bewildering fashion; it is much easier to lose your way than 
to find it. The people are all strongly characteristic of their 
Spanish origin; they are a dark, swarthy, lazy-looking race, 
and scarcely seem to have energy enough to keep themselves 
awake. Their houses have no pretension to architecture of 
any kind; there is no attempt at pretty cottage-building or 
rural decoration; not even a creeping plant is trained to 
hide the bare walls. I suppose the men do the work some- 
times, but I have seen them at all hours, shouldering the 



MONTEREY 287 

door-posts, smoking In sombre, majestic silence, while the 
wives sit on stools beside them, generally with bright-col- 
oured handkerchiefs pinned across their breasts, huge gold 
hoops in their ears, and often thick bracelets on their arms. 
In her barbaric love of display the woman forms a pictur- 
esque and striking figure in the shadow of her majestic lord ; 
she is a piece of brilliant colouring, from the full, red lips, 
rich-hued complexion, to the sparkling black eyes which il- 
luminate the whole. 

In the heart of the town there is a long, low range of 
deserted buildings, formerly occupied by the military; the 
windows are all broken, the worm-eaten doors hang, like 
helpless cripples, on their hinges, and only the ghostly echo 
of the wind goes wandering through the empty chambers. 
In all quarters of the town you may come upon houses with 
windows patched or broken and padlocked doors, the owners 
having died or wandered away, and no one (but the rats) 
cares to take possession of bare walls. Nobody heeds them; 
they are left to natural decay. We passed some lonely, barn- 
like dwellings, with curtained windows and large gardens 
behind, where we could see the orchard trees, and flowering 
shrubs, and white winter roses growing; these were shrouded 
with almost monastic quietude. We go to the primitive 
Catholic Church on Sunday, and wonder where all the 
beautiful women dressed in their picturesque national cos- 
tume have come from. They have a proud, haughty look 
upon their faces, and seem to resent our intrusion. These, 
we are told, are the aristocratic remains of the ancient dwell- 
ers in the city, who form a small exclusive society among 
themselves, and live in the secluded barn-like buildings above 
alluded to. Some are in the midst of the town; some scat- 
tered on the outskirts. The music was good and the service 
reverently conducted. 

One clear, cool morning we pack a luncheon basket and 



288 MONTEREY 

start for a "cruise on wheels." We drive first past the 
old mission buildings to the Moss Beach, lying along the 
shores of the Pacific Ocean, and so called from the peculiar 
mossy character and beauty of the seaweed it flings liberally 
along the pure, white sand, for the beach here is like pow- 
dered snow, and stretches far into the wild inland, its still, 
billowy waves sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine. A 
few miles farther on, and after a pleasant drive through 
pretty home scenery, we pass a Chinese fishing village, it 
being a mere collection of miserable hovels, and, as an In- 
dian decorates his wigwam with scalps, these are hung inside 
and out with rows of dried and drying bodies of fish. The 
beach is covered with their bony skeletons and fishy remains 
in different stages of decomposition, and the whole air is redo- 
lent with an " ancient and fish-like smell." We are satis- 
fied with an outside view, and have no desire to explore, 
but drive on as fast as we can till we reach the " pebbly 
beach of Pescadero," which is quite a celebrated spot. Peo- 
ple come from miles round to visit it, and spend many hours 
in hunting for moss agates; for these, and many others of 
a beautiful and rare description, may be found in great num- 
bers there. But apart from the chance of finding these 
treasures, the pebbly beach is in itself a great attraction for 
its rarity, as all along that portion of the coast there is 
only a sand shore. 

Thence we drive on to the lighthouse, which stands on a 
rocky eminence jutting out into the sea. We climbed the 
narrow stairway to the top, and enjoyed an extensive pano- 
ramic view of the wild sea and wilder land surrounding. 
A lonely, desolate place it was, and to some folk would be 
maddening in its monotonous dreariness, with the waves for- 
ever beating round its rocky base, varied only by the screech 
of the sea-birds or howling of the wandering wind. Yet 
even in this bleak spot the keeper has coaxed flowers into 



MONTEREY 289 

growing, and hollyhocks, scarlet geraniums, dahlias, and 
other hardy plants are blooming round the lonely dwelling. 

We are to take our lunch at Cypress Point, which we 
reach about three o'clock in the afternoon. This interesting 
and romantic spot which we had selected for our temporary 
festivity is an extensive grove, a miniature forest of cypress 
trees, covering and growing to the very verge of a lofty cliff 
which rises about two hundred feet perpendicularly from the 
sea. Their sombre forms, still and motionless, though a 
stiff breeze is blowing, turn oceanwards like dark-plumed, 
dusky sentinels keeping watch and ward over the rock-bound 
land. How many centuries have they stood there? Their 
age is beyond our ken. We feel the strange fascination of 
this gloomy spot. The ancient trees have grown into strange, 
fantastic forms. Some lie prone upon the ground, gnarled 
and twisted as though they had wrestled in their death-agony 
ages ago, and left their skeletons bleaching in the sunshine, 
for, like the whitening bones of a dead man, they crumble at 
the touch. Some have twined their stiff branches inex- 
tricably together, apparently engaged in an everlasting wres- 
tling match. Here, like a half-clothed wizard, stands a skel- 
eton tree with fingers pointing menacingly at its invisible 
destroyer. On every side the weird, strange forms strike 
the imagination, and though the sea is laughing and spar- 
kling in the sun, and the soft wind fanning us with its cool, 
invigorating breath, the grim, silent congregation gives us 
an uncanny feeling, though we gather under their shade and 
eat, drink, and are merry. We shiver as we think what a 
spectral scene the cypress grove must be in the moonlight. 



ANNAPOLIS 

ESTHER SINGLETON 

ANNAPOLIS, the capital of Maryland, was made the 
-*V- seat of government for that colony in 1688. Origin- 
ally known as Providence, it received its present name in 
1708, in honour of Queen Anne. It is beautifully situated on 
the Severn River, thirty miles south of Baltimore and forty 
miles northeast of Washington, commanding a fine view of 
the Chesapeake Bay. During the colonial period this cheer- 
ful little town was one of the most important social centres, 
ranking with New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Williams- 
burg, and Charleston in its display of wealth and fashion. 
Records give abundant evidence of riches and pleasure on 
the part of the inhabitants. Social entertainments — din- 
ners, balls, parties, etc., were numerous, and card-playing, 
gambling, horse-racing, cock-fighting, and duelling were in- 
dulged in with fervour. 

Annapolis was one of the earliest towns in this country to 
build a theatre, and a new one was opened in 1760 by the 
famous Hallam Company, where such plays and farces as 
Romeo and Juliet, The Recruiting Officer, Venice Preserved, 
Richard III., Bold Stroke for a Wife, Lethe, Miss in her 
Teens, Stage Coach, Lying Valet, and Damon and Phillida, 
delighted the bewigged and bepainted beaux and belles. 

In 1 769-1 777, Eddis, who held an office under the Brit- 
ish Government in Annapolis, said : " The quick importation 
of fashions from the mother country is really aston- 
ishing. I am almost inclined to believe that a new fashion 
is adopted earlier by the polished and affluent American than 

290 



ANNAPOLIS 291 

by many opulent persons in the great metropolis; nor are op- 
portunities wanting to display superior elegance. We have 
varied amusements and numerous parties, which afford to 
the young, the gay, and the ambitious an extensive field to 
contend in the race of vain and idle competition. In short, 
very little difference is, in reality, observable in the manners 
of the wealthy colonist and the wealthy Briton." 

In 1 78 1, the Abbe Rodin, Count Rochambeau's chaplain, 
who travelled extensively through the North and South, 
wrote: "There appears to be more wealth and luxury in 
Annapolis than in any other city which I have visited in this 
country. The extravagance of the women here surpasses 
that of our own provinces; a French hairdresser is a man of 
great importance; one lady here pays to her coiffeur a salary 
of a thousand crowns. This little city, which is at the mouth 
of the Severn River, contains several handsome edifices. The 
State House is the finest in the country; its front is orna- 
mented with columns, and the building surmounted by a 
dome. There is also a theatre here. Annapolis is a place 
of considerable shipping. The climate is the most delightful 
in the world." 

The Duke de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt, in his Voyage 
dans les £tats-Unis, (1795-7), observed: "In a country 
which has belonged to England for a long time, of which 
the most numerous and nearest connections are yet with 
England, and which carried on with England almost all of 
its commerce, the manners of the people must necessarily 
resemble, in a great degree, those of England. As for Amer- 
ican manners particularly, those relative to living are the 
same as in the provinces of England. As to the dress, the 
English fashions are as faithfully copied as the sending of 
merchandise from England and the tradition of tailors and 
mantua-makers will admit of. The distribution of the apart- 
ments in their houses is like that of England, the furniture 



292 ANNAPOLIS 

is English, the town and carriages are either English, or in 
the English taste; and it is no small merit among the fash- 
ionable world to have a coach newly arrived from London 
and of the newest fashion." 

Notwithstanding the strong English flavour of society in 
Annapolis, the town early caught the flames of the Revolu- 
tion. The passage of the Stamp Act was received with the 
greatest indignation here in March, 1766, and three months 
later the Sons of Liberty from Baltimore, Kent, and Anne 
Arundel Counties joyfully gathered here upon its repeal. 
Anti-British sentiment ran high in this old town; and in its 
harbour an episode occurred in connection with tea that 
rivals that of the Boston Harbour. The story bears re- 
peating. 

On Saturday, the 15th of October, 1774, the brig Peggy 
Stewart arrived in Annapolis from London. Among the 
cargo were 2320 pounds of tea consigned to Thomas Charles 
Williams & Company of Annapolis. On this discovery, 
the citizens were summoned to a general meeting. It was 
found that Mr. Anthony Stewart, the proprietor of the ves- 
sel, had paid the duties, and the citizens then and there de- 
termined to appoint a committee to prevent the landing of 
the " detestable plant," as it was then termed. Some mem- 
bers, however, proposed to land the tea and burn it ; but this 
motion met with scorn. Mr. Stewart prepared and distrib- 
uted a hand-bill, addressed to the " Gentlemen of the Com- 
mittee, the citizens of Annapolis, and the inhabitants of 
Anne Arundel County," in which he exonerated himself to 
the best of his ability. A few days later, he was forced to 
apologize and acknowledge himself in the wrong. Eddis, 
who was an eye-witness, says: " Mr. Stewart was induced 
by the advice of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Esquire, and 
from an anxious desire to preserve the public tranquillity, as 
well as to secure his own personal safety, to propose setting 



ANNAPOLIS 293 

fire himself to the vessel, which being immediately assented 
to, he instantly repaired on board, accompanied by several 
gentlemen who thought it necessary to attend him, and hav- 
ing directed her to be run aground, near the wind-mill point, 
he made a sacrifice of his valuable property, and in a few 
hours the brig, with her sails, cordage and every appurte- 
nance, was effectually burnt." 

McMahon, in his history of Maryland, says: "The tea- 
burning at Boston has acquired renown, as an act of unex- 
ampled daring at that day in the defence of American liber- 
ties, but the tea-burning at Annapolis, which occurred in the 
ensuing fall, far surpasses it in the apparent deliberation and 
utter carelessness of concealment attending the bold meas- 
ures which led to its accomplishment." 

The most noted of the public buildings is the State House, 
erected in 1772 (Joseph Clarke was the architect), which 
has been the scene of political and social events. In the Sen- 
ate Room, Washington surrendered his commission in 1783, 
and in this room was ratified the treaty of peace with Great 
Britain in that year, recognizing the independence of the 
young Republic. Here, also, the first Constitutional Con- 
vention met in 1786. The walls of the State House are 
appropriately hung with historical pictures and portraits, 
some of them by Charles Wilson Peale, a native of Annap- 
olis. 

St. John's College, built in 1789, is another interesting 
edifice, and its Green is of historic interest, because it was 
twice used for the encampment of an army — by the French 
during the Revolutionary War, and by the Americans in 
1812. 

The United States Naval Academy, which bears the same 
relation to the Navy that West Point does to the Army, was 
founded in 1845. The idea originated with George Ban- 
croft, Secretary of the Navy in President Polk's Cabinet. 



294 ANNAPOLIS 

Annapolis still retains much of its Eighteenth Century 
appearance. The traveller finds delight in the quiet streets, 
where low and wide houses of red brick with white facings 
and columned porticos wreathed with creepers, standing in 
gardens of blooming flowers and shrubs, have an old-world 
atmosphere rarely met with in this country. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF MOUNT DESERT 
WILLIAM D. WILLIAMSON 

POUTRINCOURT, wishing to revive his plantation 
at Port Royal, procured the King's confirmation of 
the grant, upon condition of his endeavours to convert the 
natives to the Catholic faith. In view of both purposes, 
this adventurer, his son Biencourt and two Jesuits, Biard 
and Masse, with several families intending to become set- 
tlers, embarked for America. While on the passage, a 
severe controversy arose between him and the ecclesiastics; 
in which he boldly told them, " it was his part to rule them 
on earth, and theirs only to guide him to heaven." 

He tarried a short time at Port Royal, and returning to 
France, left his son in command. Disdaining to be under 
the control of these priests, who were merely invited by his 
father to reside in the plantation, Biencourt threatened them 
with corporal punishment in return for their spiritual 
anathemas. In such a state of society, the three could hardly 
continue together until the spring. At an early day, there- 
fore, the Jesuits bade him farewell and proceeded westward 
to Mount Desert. 

This was the highest, largest, and consequently the most 
noted Island upon the coast. It was " so named by the 
French," perhaps by Champlain, " on account of the thir- 
teen high mountains " it exhibited ; which were the first 
lands seen from the sea. It is supposed that the place of resi- 
dence selected by the missionaries was on the western side 
of the Pool — a part of the sound which stretches from the 
southeasterly side of the heart of the Island. Here they 

295 



296 THE SETTLEMENT OF MOUNT DESERT 

constructed and fortified an habitation, planted a garden, 
and dwelt five years; entering with great zeal and untiring 
perseverance upon the work of converting the natives to 
Christianity. 

Meanwhile, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, a man never over- 
come by discouragements, was equally bold and ardent in 
his pursuits, though of a different character. " As to the 
coldness of the climate," says he, " I have had too much ex- 
perience in the world to be frightened with such a blast. 
Many great kingdoms, and large territories, more northerly 
seated, and by many degrees colder, are plentifully inhab- 
ited — divers of them being stored with not better commodi- 
ties than these parts afford — if like industry, art, and labour 
be used." He was confident; yet so strangely had the pas- 
sion for adventures abated that he could find nobody willing 
to engage with him either in making settlements or dis- 
covery. He, however, purchased a ship with his own money 
and procured a master and crew to make a voyage hither, 
possibly to keep possession of the country against the French, 
though avowedly for the purposes of fishing and traffic — 
the only objects supposed to be sufficient at this time to 
induce them to cross the Atlantic. On board the ship he 
sent Richard Vines, and some others of his servants in whom 
he had the most confidence, and this was the course he pur- 
sued several years. 

Among the visitants to these Northern coasts at this period 
was one Samuel Argal, subsequently governor of South Vir- 
ginia. Driven by a violent storm, he bore away iftr Saga- 
dahock; and coming in sight of a small, rocky island out 
of Penobscot Bay, in lattitude 43 ° 44', he approached it 
as the wind abated, and on the 28th of July landed upon it. 
Here he found a great store " of seals, and therefore called 
it Seal Rock," a name it still retains. Another visitor was 
Sir George Somers, who landed at Sagadahock in Septem- 



THE SETTLEMENT OF MOUNT DESERT 297 

ber, on his way to Bermuda. A third was Capt. Edward 
Harlow. 

Since the Charter was obtained, Gorges had been viewing 
the American coast between Piscataqua and Passamaquoddy 
with peculiar intensity and predilection, and continually 
drawing from voyagers, from the natives, and in particular 
from Richard Vines, a great variety of facts about its situa- 
tion, its inhabitants, and its resources. So, without doubt, 
other Englishmen, as well as he, had before this noticed 
with jealousy and displeasure the progressive French settle- 
ment at Port Royal, and the residence of the Jesuits at 
Mount Desert. Meanwhile, an opportune transaction gave 
fresh vigour to the enterprises of the French in this region. 
Madame de Guercheville, a Catholic lady of France, zealous 
for the conversion of the American natives, after procuring 
of de Monts a surrender of his patent, had it all confirmed 
to her by a Charter from the King, excepting Port Royal, 
previously granted to Poutrincourt. She appointed one 
Suassaye her agent, who set up at Port le Hive, in Acadia, 
where he arrived May 16th, the arms of his mistress in token 
of possession taken; and at Port Royal he made a visit, 
where he found only five persons, of whom two were Jesuit 
missionaries. Suassaye, producing his pious credentials, took 
both monks into the service of the mission, and sailed for 
Mount Desert. Here twenty-five colonists were landed on 
the south side of the river ; a small fort was built ; the ship's 
crew of thirty-five men helped fit up the habitations ; and here 
they set up a cross, celebrated mass, and called the place 
St. Saviour. Whether this was on the eastern end of the 
island, as one account states, or in the southerly part, as 
others report, where Biard and Masse were residing, we have 
no means at this time to determine. 

But scarcely had these emigrants provided themselves with 
some few accommodations, when they had to encounter new 



298 THE SETTLEMENT OF MOUNT DESERT 

and unexpected troubles from the English. Capt. Argal 
of Virginia, in a fishing trip to these waters, being cast 
ashore at Pentagoet, or Penobscot Bay, was there fully in- 
formed by the natives what the French were doing at St. 
Saviour, sometimes called Mount Mansel. 

This intelligence he immediately communicated to the 
Virginia magistrates, and they at once determined to expel 
these Catholic Frenchmen as obtruders within the limits 
of the first Charter granted to the patentees of North and 
South Virginia. Eleven fishing vessels were speedily equipped, 
carrying sixty soldiers and fourteen pieces of cannon, and of 
this little armament Argal was appointed the commodore. 
His first approach completely surprised the French; yet 
having a ship and a barque in the harbour, and " a small 
entrenchment " on shore, they made a show of resistance. 
This was all they were able to do, for the cannon were not 
in a situation to be used, and the men were mostly absent 
from the fort, engaged in their respective employments. 

Argal, in his attack upon the vessels found the capture of 
them to be no difficult task, even with musketry. Gilbert 
du Thet, one of the Jesuits, was killed by a musket-ball 
while in the act of levelling a ship's gun against the assail- 
ants; others were wounded, and those on board, except 
four or five, were taken prisoners. Argal then landed and 
summoned the fort. The commander requested time for 
a consultation, but through fear of his being reinforced, his 
request was not granted. The garrison then abandoning 
the fort through a private passage, escaped to the woods. 
After breaking in pieces the cross which the Jesuits had 
erected, Argal reared another inscribed with the name of 
his king, and in this way took formal possession of the 
place. 

The people came in the next day and surrendered them- 
selves, their patent, and their stores. Argal treated them 



THE SETTLEMENT OF MOUNT DESERT 299 

with kindness, and gave them their choice, either to return 
home in such French vessels as might perchance resort to 
the coast, or to go with him to Virginia. 

To complete the reduction of Acadia, the fleet sailed far- 
ther eastward, piloted, as some say, by the Jesuit Father 
Biard, who was glad of an opportunity to avenge himself 
of Biencourt, or, as others affirm, by an Indian whom Argal 
had pressed into his service. At St. Croix Island, he " took 
one vessel," destroyed what remained of de Monts's settle- 
ments, and crossing the Bay of Fundy, came to anchor 
before Port Royal. 

The French at the time were mostly absent from the 
fort; Biencourt being employed in exploring the country, 
and others differently engaged. Argal, therefore, lost no 
time, and in two hours after he had landed his men he re- 
duced the entire settlement to ashes. 

The two commanders afterwards had a meeting in a 
neighbouring meadow and discussed the subjects of their 
rights and claims, when Biencourt made proposals to nego- 
tiate; but Argal in return said his only orders were to dis- 
possess the French, and if they should be found there again, 
they would be treated as enemies. In this mood they 
parted ; and Argal carried the French ship, pinnace, cattle, 
and provisions to Jamestown. 



SANTA FE 1 
CLARENCE A. MILLER 

SANTA FE is interesting mainly as the seat of three 
widely differing civilizations. These, though successive, 
were gradually so. The last two coexist. The first pro- 
jected itself in lighter and lighter shades through the second ; 
and perhaps even yet, with a subtle pervasion through the 
Mexican life and character, looks about its old home and 
its ruined buildings, like a ghost of a shadow. 

Relics found along the Santa Fe valley show that the 
city enjoyed its greatest prosperity and grandeur as a pre- 
historic Aztec pueblo. The glories, wealth, and achieve- 
ments of Aztec civilization are more for imagination to 
outline than for history to describe. From accounts of Span- 
ish warriors, priests, and explorers, from ruins and hiero- 
glyphics, from Aztec language, tradition, mythology, and 
custom, we can gather enough to excite deep interest in and 
sympathy with the unhappy people of Montezuma. We 
know enough to induce investigators to enter the field dis- 
closed, and by close life with the remnants of tribes to 
explore it more thoroughly. Spain, by virtue of gunpowder 
and treachery, overcame the native races, robbed them of 
their wealth and freedom, killed their chiefs, and stamped 
out their sacred fires; but we know enough of what Spain 
thus destroyed to doubt that the civilization that she sub- 
stituted was much of an improvement. 

The Indians tell a story of the birth of Montezuma near 

the southern extremity of the Santa Fe mountain range; 

of his journey southward on the back of an eagle, the peo- 

1 By kind permission of the Overland Monthly. 

300 



SANTA FE 301 

pie following and founding cities where the eagle had nested 
each night ; and of the founding of the capital city of Mexico 
at the end of the long march. This myth suggests that 
New Mexico is in reality the old Mexico, and was once the 
centre of Aztec power and culture, and that the tribes 
found there by the Spanish were but the weak and unpro- 
gressive of the race. They were not of the stuff of which 
Argonauts are made. They had looked askance at fortune, 
and their faint hearts did not win her encouragement. So 
they had quietly stayed in the peaceful and fruitful fields 
of the Rio Grande, or laboured at the old turquoise mine 
by day, and spent the nights in their safe, rock-protected 
pueblos. Their prudence brought a tame prosperity, which 
met a common fate at Spanish hands with that of their 
more adventurous brethren. 

About 1538, when the masts of the Mayflower yet 
grew in the forest and the Pilgrim grandfathers were in 
their cradles, Cabeza de Vaca, a Spanish iEneas, led his 
shipwrecked party through the Rio Grande valley. Priests, 
chieftains, and explorers followed, each drawn by zeal in 
his profession, until, by 1 600, the country was overrun with 
Spaniards. The Indians were enslaved, and toiled in the 
mines, that hidalgoes might wear jewels. A successful re- 
volt in 1680 freed the Indians, until De Vargas, about a 
dozen years after, reconquered them. 

The third civilization appeared on the scene in the first dec- 
ade of the Nineteenth Century. Not conquest, not religion, 
but trade was the incentive ; for the newcomer was a Saxon, 
and particularly a Yankee one. Profit multiplied his foot- 
steps into a well-defined trail to the Missouri River, and 
the waggon road that the traveller on the Atchinson, Topeka 
and Santa Fe Railroad sees continually near the track is 
the same old Santa Fe trail. 

The Rio Santa Fe boldly rushes through the centre of 



302 SANTA FE 

the town, putting to its left the staid old Mexican residence 
portion that clusters around venerable San Miguel, and re- 
serving to its right the blocks where American business moves 
on, though slowly, and weighted with Mexican conservatism. 

The town, on the whole, is sleepy and ancient looking; 
crooked streets, too narrow for but one sidewalk, find their 
ways like paths among the jutting, irregular fronts of adobe 
buildings. Then there is the Plaza, a Spanish feature which 
always makes small towns look less like lively cities than ever. 
Around this are most of the American business buildings, 
but Mexican adobe structures are inserted between them. 
The old crooked walls of Jesus Ascencion Garcia's Broad 
Gauge Saloon are buttressed by a brand new brick bank 
building. On the street a stylish dog-cart dashes past its 
original undeveloped type — a great, heavy structure resting 
on two oxen and two thick discs of wood, which creak on 
wooden axles. More primitive even than that, comes a 
drove of small donkeys known as burros, each bearing much 
more than his bulk of cord-wood or hay, and all driven by 
an Indian from the pueblo of Tesuque or by a darker-looking 
Mexican. 

On Sunday afternoons it has been the custom of all Santa 
Fe to promenade on the Plaza. Time was when the Plaza 
was a bare market-place, but American innovation and im- 
provement has made it a park. In the centre a monument 
commemorates the soldiers who died for the Union in New 
Mexico. Here are fountains supplied from the Santa Fe 
reservoir three miles away. A heavy growth of alfalfa 
covers the ground, and cottonwoods wave above. The mili- 
tary band plays in the pavilion, and the audience is of many 
nationalities and languages, drawn here by music, the lan- 
guage of the world. They fill the benches in the park ; they 
throng the long veranda of the old Palace; they promenade 
along the paths, or drive stylish teams. There are Mexican 



SANTA FE 303 

matrons, with the indispensable mantilla, a head-dress after 
the manner of some village gossip who is just going over to 
some neighbour with a bit of news. Their faces are old 
and wrinkled — sad prophecy of the future in store for the 
fresh faces of the young sehoritas! 

Here carefully steps an invalid, watchful of his small 
reserve of strength, and enjoying the air which he came so 
far to breathe. Yonder are negroes, in conspicuous spirits 
and health, delighting in bright colours. A party of tour- 
ists pass the monument, and read every inscription, because 
it is their duty to. They are here but two days, and must 
see everything. Who can learn about three centuries in 
two days? A glimpse of a switching cue shows that Santa 
Fe is not unblessed with Chinese. On a bench near by, 
three or four soldiers from the military quarter, in bright 
uniform, lounge and gaze at the passing senoritas. These 
Mexican maidens have discarded the mantilla for the nonce, 
and in Sunday bonnets and ribbons suited to their dark faces, 
move gaily past, " with all their bravery on, and tackle 
trim." A representative of the wealthiest and most influ- 
ential class of Santa Fe passes in the contented-looking per- 
son of a Jew with his wife; they are followed by an unmis- 
takable Bridget with their little Jewish baby. 

Pueblo Indians attract attention amid the crowd by the 
profusion of red colour in their principal garment. This 
blanket is thrown loosely about the body, and seems always 
about to fall to the ground. They wear white leggins, look- 
ing as if cut when loose trousers were in vogue, and since 
then made tight and stylish by an extra seam. The red 
paint on their cheeks is so blended with their bronze colour 
as to produce a by no means bad effect. The hair is black, 
and too coarse to seem human. It reaches everywhere down 
from the crown like a thatch on a hay-stack, and in front is 
cut off square with the eyebrows, banged, without a doubt, 



304 SANTA FE 

and we were centuries behind when we adopted the style. 
The beauty of this coiffure, though sometimes adorned on 
state occasions by a feather or two, is always unconcealed. 
Whether the Indian is selling fish in the streets, or ploughing 
behind his black and white oxen with a stick for a plough- 
share, or making Aztec pottery in front of the laddered en- 
trance to his house, he is bareheaded. 

Castilian ladies, though rarely seen in public, appear on 
these Sunday afternoons. The quiet dress and demeanour, 
and the intelligence seen in the countenances, give evidence 
of the advantages of families of long-continued wealth, power 
and culture. But the power was hereditary ; the culture was 
made possible by leisure afforded by wealth; and the wealth 
came as large land-grants, gifts of a government ever partial 
to its nobility; a government possessed of land undiminished 
by any homestead laws for the benefit of its common people. 

To this bright-coloured crowd of human contrasts, thus 
moving among themselves, the long, one-story palace is a 
background. Its stirring history comes to the mind in pic- 
tures quickened and made vivid by the heroic music of the 
bands, a background to the thought. The park is gone; 
Indians are toiling with huge blocks of adobe, building thick 
walls for the palace that will stand so long. Now comes the 
resplendent Spanish army — they enter in triumph — they 
christen with the new name Santa Fe. Many affairs of 
state follow; decorations and costumes brighten the scenes. 

Now it is dark and still ; a light from the palace window 
aids the Captain-General within to plan his battles from the 
surrounding maps. Troops gather on the Plaza by early 
morning. When they return, they lead captives within those 
gloomy walls. Some are led out again to be shot; others 
remain — their fate, quien sabef All is again changed; In- 
dians supplant the native Spaniards; heathen rites and the 
cachina dance celebrate success. Now, between lines of men 



SANTA FE 305 

on the one hand and women on the other, De Vargas and 
his band make their triumphal entry; Te Deum laudamus, 
sing the priests. The man of the palace is again a Spaniard. 
Now more familiar faces appear — sun-browned, but shrewd. 
They come with long waggon trains and mule teams and 
cracking whips; the town gathers to receive them as to a 
great event long looked for. Another rebellion, and a tur- 
bulent crowd follows a man carrying a human head — that 
of Governor Perez. With Mexican suddenness, change 
again occurs, and the Plaza is again the scene of the cus- 
tomary wholesale execution of gentlemen with political tastes. 

Now appear the Stars and Stripes, and soldiers in our 
uniform of the Mexican War. Rebels succeed and tear down 
the flag, but the reign of the Stars and Bars is soon over. 

What unknown scenes and events those thick palace walls 
have concealed! How well they have kept their secrets; 
like Hamlet's friends, they disclose nothing in their dull 
looks — not even a wise " we could an' if we would." Santa 
Fe is full of churches, cathedrals, and religious schools. 
Everyone has heard of San Miguel, part of whose adobe 
walls have been standing for nearly three hundred years, and 
which has stood in its entirety as at present since 17 10. The 
visitor is directed by a notice that he is to pull a cord three 
times; a deep-toned bell solemnly responds to the action, 
and this somewhat mysterious preliminary brings to the door 
a boyish-looking " brother," who repays one's entrance fee 
with a description of the objects of interest. The old, clear- 
toned bell is of pure copper ; the carved vigas are quaint and 
curious; the paintings are the same sort of works of early 
Spanish-American art (it is a pity to apply that word to 
them) that is to be found in all the old churches of New 
Mexico. Opposite San Miguel is an old pueblo house, ap- 
parently used by several Mexican families. It is the oldest 
house in this old town. 



OCT S3 



SRARYOFCONGRE! 




011 528 088 



• i 




